


Wildfire

by pbmolecules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angel!Castiel, California, Dean has good parents for once, Firefighter, Firefighter!Dean, Fires, Hiking, M/M, Natural Disaster, Rescue, Romance, Summer, Survival, Tahoe National Forest, Wing Kink, Wings, forest, hermit!Cas, hero - Freeform, meet to rescue to romance, show level dangerous situations and mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbmolecules/pseuds/pbmolecules
Summary: Dean has fought wildfires so massive that he would swear they fought back.  As he assists to evacuate some the most remote residents in Tahoe National Forest, he discovers one particular hermit that will burn all his preconceived notions to the ground and light a fire in his very soul.
Relationships: Dean/Cas, Destiel
Comments: 129
Kudos: 231
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Incipient

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my friends!!!! I am back with a quick story! The definitions are from the web and I gotta say, I learned a lot while writing this one. I knew this was gonna be good though, when while I was scouting a good location, I came across Collins Ravine! I mean...Collins? Yeah, it was meant to be!  
> I will be posting a chapter a day until all six chapters are in!  
> Hope you enjoy this firey tale! Let me know what you think!!  
> Thank you Shellz! I wouldn’t be here without you!

Chapter 1: Incipient  
  
Incipient (Pre-Heat, Pre-Ignition): As an ember lands within a load of flammable material, a fuel source such as pine needles and leaves left in rain gutters, it is setting the stage for ignition to occur. With the help of oxygen, the ember increases in heat and strength. Stage 1 of a fire.  
  


Dean shrugged his tired shoulders, trying to roll the knots out of them the best he could. He walked up to Bobby’s truck, gripped the open driver’s side window, and coughed hard toward the ground.  
  
Bobby ended his call, looking at him with a mixture of warning and concern. “Need a cigarette?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean croaked, coughing again. “You’re hilarious.” The air was saturated with the dry, woody heat of the fire raging a mile away.  
  
“It’s official. Mills categorized it as a wildfire.” Bobby handed Dean a bottle of water.  
  
Dean took it, guzzling half the bottle before panting and wiping his forehead off. Black grime smeared across the sleeve of his flannel. He frowned at it, wondering what the hell his lungs looked like.  
  
“You know,” Dean spat on the ground, knowing he looked a wreck, “just because you call her ‘Mills’ doesn’t mean we don’t still know she’s your wife.”  
  
Bobby rolled his eyes, starting the truck. “Well, excuse me Deputy Smart-ass. My wife says it’s time to go back to the station.”  
  
Dean laughed with a sigh. “Meet you there.”  
  
Dean headed to the truck he had driven there. He got in, started it, and cranked up the air conditioning as he stripped his jacket the rest of the way off, tossing it to the back seat. “There, don’t pee on it,” he said to the four dogs he had collected from the nearby house in the evacuation zone. The owners had been contacted and gave them permission to go inside. A crate with a very cranky cat sat in his passenger seat. Who knew animal rescue would be such a big part of his career as a firefighter? That bullshit about calling the fire department to rescue a cat up a tree was a real thing. Among other bizarre animal rescues.  
  
One of the Bassett hounds in the backseat howled.  
  
“Yeah? You stink too, Flash.” He laughed at his own Dukes of Hazzard reference and pulled away from the secluded home. Bobby followed him. He coughed again, sneezed, and tried not to swerve too much as he blew his nose. More black debris. Nice.  
  
“Be a mechanic, my dad always said,” Dean lectured to his furry listeners in the back seat. “They make good money. But nooooo. I gotta be a fuckin’ firefighter.”  
  
The dogs heads bobbed with the bumpy dirt lane.  
  
“I know, I know,” he waved off their arguments. “It’s commendable work. You’re a heeeerooo. No. I’m just a dumb-ass that will die in my forties from lung cancer or COPD from too many fires. But hey, somebody has to do it. Right?” He glanced in his rearview mirror at the droopy face of the other Bassett hound. “Right. Thanks for the vote of confidence, fellas.” He turned onto a paved road, pulling over as Bobby did the same, setting up several cones and a sign to block the lane. The fire was taking root. Yet another home that was officially unsafe and (sadly) could be ashes within a day. Thankfully, the homeowners had safety stickers on their windows with the number and type of pets in the home. Dogs were usually pretty easy to find but cats...oh they were easy to miss.  
  
When Bobby flashed the lights of the distinctly green Forest Service truck he was in, Dean pulled onto the paved road again, heading back to the station. Wildfire season had been brutal this year, and this fire was working into a nasty situation quickly. He was only a few hours away from where Sam lived, in Chico, California. Maybe when they had this monster tackled, he could go visit. He had been talking to Sam just the other night about moving to Chico to join him and his peppy better-half, Jess, and actually buy a house instead of throwing money away on renting near their parents in Lawrence, Kansas. His studly days as a hot firefighter had left him seasoned into the worn-out, feeling every bit of his mid-thirties, dragging-ass tired, adult he now was.  
  
He drove east on route 49 toward the station that they were putting together in Downieville, a tiny town deep in Tahoe National Forest. He had been in this area before, but usually handled fires more south of here. The fire had started only days ago, most likely from lightning reported in the area.  
  
Bobby, being a senior wildland firefighter, had become a wildfire inspector. Dean was logging hours to become the same thing. His heyday of scaling mountains and parachuting from planes to tackle fires was coming to an end. He was 35 and felt the rigors of his career catching up to him. His persistent cough, bad knee, general aches, and decreasing stamina were a bitter pill to swallow. Luckily, Bobby kept him in line. Sam made his opinions quite known too. His parents thought his career was heroic but wished he would get out. His mother sent him emails regularly on other job positions he could be taking within the National Forestry Agency multiple times a week.  
  
But fire was his thing. Firefighters had saved his mother’s life when his family experienced a house fire when he was only four years old. He wanted to help people. He wanted to beat the flame. And no one could talk him out of it. Not even the four sets of puppy-dog eyes in his back seat.   
  
He pulled into the make-shift station they had set up at Downieville’s recently closed elementary school.  
  
He had barely stopped sweating when he had to get out of the truck and deal with the heat again. He left the truck running, keeping his passengers cool in the sweltering heat.  
  
He pulled the radio off his belt, answering a call from Jo. The itty-bitty town had one restaurant, run by a mom and daughter. Jo, the daughter, had stepped up as their ‘local contact’ for the area. She was helping to coordinate people as they would have to start coming to the school for shelter when they had to leave their homes.  
  
“Yeah, Jo. It’s Dean,” he said, waiting for Bobby to get out of his truck.  
  
“Hi. Mr. Elkins is here. He’s headed your way to collect his pets.”  
  
“Alright.” He saw a man coming toward him with a worried look on his face. Dean waved to him. As he reunited the man with his five pets, assuring him that it was no problem and accepting his repeated thanks, Dean added another tick to the pro list on why he did what he did. Saving people (and animals) made him feel good.  
  
He got the man settled into a classroom that some of the locals were preparing for incomers. He headed back to the tiny cafeteria, where all the planning activity was taking place.  
  
“So, we’re at stage two,” Jody was saying, drawing a red circle on a map on the computer. Stage one. Inception. The fire had gained oxygen and strength, raging in a difficult to access area. Stage two - Flashover. The structure becomes the fire’s fuel. In other words, fire was leaping from tree to tree, gaining heat and energy.  
  
“Mandatory evacuations are starting,” she went on. “Garth has a team of locals out helping him evac in this zone.” She drew a green line surrounding the red-lined fire circle.  
  
“Bobby, your team has orders to stand down until 7:30 tomorrow morning. You’ve been running all day.”  
  
Dean sighed. He was used to being part of the teams just now gathering to get into the forest and battle the blaze head-on. He was going to argue that he could join one, but another coughing fit had him disrupting the entire group, completely discrediting his argument before he could make it.  
  
“Come on, lunger,” Bobby said, smacking him on the back. “Quit pouting. We’ll see plenty of action tomorrow if that wind keeps up. It’s supposed to really blow west as evening goes on. Probably be at stage 3 by the time we get back.”  
  
Dean gave Jody a regretful wave and followed Bobby out of the school. “I think it’s just allergies,” he attempted.  
  
“Yeah. You’re allergic to yer job, ya idjit,” Bobby smirked.  
  
Dean would have huffed, but that would only ignite another volley of coughing. So, he stewed instead.  
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
Dean was at the school by 7am. He stared at the monitor in front of Jody. Stage 3 - Fully Developed.  
  
The fire had grown. It had hit stage three by midnight.   
  
This was the most dangerous phase of a fire, when it became like a living thing, moving, jumping, devouring. He had seen fire take on an energy so strong it could jump a ridge, sending embers out like feelers to light little fires and lead it onward.  
  
The fire would be roaring now like a beast. Eating its way, branch to limb, tree to tree. Wildlife would flood outward as the flora and fauna would blow and singe, igniting from the sheer heat before flame even reached it.   
  
“Lucky you, Winchester,” Jody called over seven people and three work tables. “You’re early, so I’m sending you up state road 514. Get them moving out. The wind is not cooperating. We’re looking at it reaching their lands by noon tomorrow.”  
  
Dean nodded, staring up at the map again. “How many acres are we at?”  
  
Jody sighed. “Confirmed at sunup thirty minutes ago at 52 acres and spreading.”  
  
Dean nodded, heading to the end of the cafeteria to grab all the gear he needed. He didn’t anticipate needing his uniform or equipment, but you just never knew what could happen once you were out in the forest. Getting people to leave their homes was never an easy job.  
  
“Hey there, March!” Charlie called, grabbing gear.  
  
“Hey, Charlie.” She still called him ‘March’ from when they were fresh outta school and Dean had posed in a firefighter calendar to make extra money. She knew it drove him nuts, therefore...it never went away.  
  
“Jody signed me up to be your wingman,” Charlie added, tucking a jacket under her arm.  
  
“Good deal,” he said, clapping her on the back. “See ya in the truck, Red.”  
  
He left the mild heat of the school to sit in the frigid chill he could quickly create in the Forest Service truck. He watched in the rearview mirror as campers, hikers, and vacationers headed out of Tahoe National Forest. Vacations ruined but lives in tact.   
  
Charlie threw her gear in the back and they spent the next four hours going door to door west of Downie River. There were other teams out doing exactly what they were.  
  
They checked back with Jody, Charlie giving her a quick run-down. “Everyone is evacuated, including livestock, on Oxford Mill Road and here,” she pointed on the map, “to here, on Gold Bluff Road.”  
  
“Good,” Jody blew an exhausted breath out. “Grab lunch, then head out state road 509. Gear and fighters have been dropped off and have the fire contained on the eastern edge and southern edge. The wind just keeps feeding this thing and our guys are losing ground west and north. If the fire jumps Main Street in Downieville, this range to the west is gonna go fast.”  
  
Dean looked at the map. “We’ll take Goodyear Creek Road. Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll ask Jo how many campsites and rental cabins are out there.”  
  
“Radio me when you’re done,” Jody yawned.  
  
“Have you slept yet?” Charlie asked, frowning at their boss and friend of many years.  
  
Jody waved a hand as if that were an irrelevant matter. She took a call and adjusted the red and green boundary lines further out. “Got it,” she answered, ending the call. She stared at her computer screen with a tight look. “We’re at 82 acres.”  
  
Dean and Charlie nodded solemnly. Dean stared at one of the monitors showing a live feed of fighters battling the raging flames with chemicals. Part of him hated that he wasn’t with them, taking on the enemy head-first. And he had to admit that another part of him was glad he was doing the evacuating. Nature was a ruthless monster to battle.  
  
“Let’s go,” Charlie nudged him, heading for the door. “We’ll bring you lunch, Jody.”  
  
Jody nodded absently.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************  
  
  
  
The Roadhouse was the only building of business in the tiny speck on the map marked ‘Goodyears Bar’. Why the bar wasn’t called Goodyears barely registered somewhere in his exhausted mind.  
  
It was a large, square building with a general store section in the front half and the bar in the back. When Dean and Charlie walked in, there were only three other groups of people in the place.  
  
Ellen, the owner, greeted them. “Well, lunch is on the house for you two,” she grinned, waving them to sit wherever they wanted.  
  
Dean went straight to the bar, taking a stool near the register. “How’s it going?”  
  
Ellen rested one hip against the counter behind the bar. “Well, might be my last night before my bar burns to the ground. So. There’s that.”  
  
Dean shook his head, taking the beer she slid to him. “I don’t think the fire is going to cross the road. The Roadhouse should be safe. So far it’s headed northwest.”  
  
Ellen nodded, listening carefully.  
  
“Soon as we get out of here, we need to head up...” Dean pulled his phone out, looking at it.  
  
“Goodyear Creek Road,” Charlie supplied, taking an iced tea from Ellen.   
  
After they ordered burgers Jo came over to find out what the latest updates were. Dean pulled his map out, spreading it on the bar. Ellen and Jo pointed out all the campsites and cabins along the mountainous road.  
  
“Don’t forget about Cas,” Ellen said, pouring another drink for one of the locals sitting at the end of the bar.  
  
Jo screwed her mouth up. “Oh yeah. Good luck getting him to leave. He’s a hermit. Hardly ever leaves his property. His lane is somewhere near the end of the road, just before it dead-ends at the river.”  
  
“His property?” Charlie asked, looking back at the map. “This is state land. He can’t own anything here.” “His family’s been here since...forever. He got grandfathered in somehow when everyone else was forced out. But that was all way before my time. I don’t really know. Just one of those things that’s always been that way, ya know?” “Sounds fun,” Dean smirked, folding the map up. A hermit ‘grandfathered in’ on state land was the worst kind of person to evacuate. If push came to shove, the courts could discredit the local ‘agreement’ and classify him as a squatter. The guy could lose everything whether it burned to the ground or not. Ellen sat plates of burgers and fries down. Dean lost all track of the fire as he engulfed the meal.  
  
“He always eat like that?” Jo asked.  
  
“Always,” Charlie dead-panned. They both turned to look at him. His cheeks were full of fries and the tail end of his beer halfway to his mouth. He paused, staring back at them.  
  
“Wha?”  
  
They both laughed.  
  
  
  
***********************************  
  
  
  
Their second round of evacuating did not go as smoothly as the first. The second cabin they stopped at had Charlie and Dean juggling not only a litter of kittens, but an iguana, four chinchillas, seven cats to catch, and one very stubborn mule.  
  
After visiting the six marked sites along Goodyear Creek Road, they went back to the family with the mule. When the children insisted there were three more outside cats to be found, Charlie offered to stay and help, telling Dean to go on and talk to the last guy on their list, the hermit, Cas.  
  
Dean headed toward the end of the long, narrow, mountainous road. He scanned constantly for a lane on the right side of the road. Finding none, he tacked back, searching the other side of the road. No dice there either.  
  
He huffed a sigh, heading back toward the end of the road again. The truck, crawling along at a whopping eight miles per hour as Dean searched the brush line. He stopped at a gap between two trees. There was no way a vehicle could fit in there. He called the Roadhouse.  
  
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse, Jo speaking.”  
  
“Hey, Jo. It’s Dean Winchester. This guy, Cas, does he drive to town?”  
  
“Nope. He’s always on foot.”  
  
“You ever been to his place before?”  
  
She laughed. “No. Far as I know, no one has ever been there.”  
  
Dean sighed. “Alright, thanks.” He ended the call and radioed Charlie.  
  
“Hey Red. How’s cat wrangling going?”  
  
“Awesome. Fairly sure I have poison ivy. And is cat scratch fever a real thing? Or is that just an album?”  
  
Dean chuckled. “Nice. Well, I gotta hike my ass into this hermit’s property because the lane is not big enough to fit a freaking truck on it. IF I even have the path.”  
  
“Nice. Check in with me in half an hour, okay?”  
  
“10-4.”  
  
Dean hesitated as he stared at the gear in his back seat. It was too fucking hot to hike in full gear for just an off chance he’d need it. He grabbed his backpack, flare gun, rifle, and checked the battery on his radio.  
  
He approached the two trees that arched toward each other. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure this was actually a path. As his eyes adjusted to the shade of the trees, he followed what was possibly a narrow footpath with his eyes. He glanced back at his truck. But a motorcycle would hardly fit through these trees. He adjusted his backpack one last time and headed in. As he walked between the trees, a ripple of a chill washed over him, inside and out. For only an instant, there was no sound. He twitched his shoulders and stared up at the two trees in response. High on the trunks of both trees, symbols were carved into them.  
  
“Great,” he muttered. People who lived deep in forested areas, especially ones described as hermits, tended to be territorial, superstitious, and a general pain in the ass to move. They usually always refused to leave their land, sometimes perishing with it.  
  
The tree branches hugged the path so tightly that he had to keep glancing down to be sure the footpath was still there. Branches swept along his arms and hot breezes whipped in quick little bursts. Dean could not exactly explain why he even still felt like this was a path at all. With his rifle held at the ready for whatever game or old hermits he was likely to encounter, he weaved his way amongst the trunks and branches of douglas firs, white firs, and sugar pines, he wondered if he was wasting his time.   
  
After half a mile of brushing along pine needles, he finally stepped foot onto a clearer path. There was no way in hell this hermit was going to leave. He could feel it. He had learned to trust his gut long ago. But still, he continued onward and upward. The path was wide enough for two people to walk side by side, finally giving him room to really see around him. He spotted five mule deer picking their way up the mountain to his left. Squirrels and birds flitted in the canopy above him. He realized too that he was no longer hot. The forest had a way of always being cooler, making him feel quite comfortable as he walked along.  
  
His radio crackled to life. “Be advised, wildfire has reached state road 509. Wind speeds are expected to pick up at 2pm.” He recognized Jody’s voice and the fact that this fire was raging behind him. He knew the ground fighters would make a stand along 509, hoping the paved road would help them form a boundary the flames could not cross.  
  
As he crested a curve in the path, he heard a sizable rustle in the brush to his right. He slowed to a stop, watching carefully. Only a moment later, a large black bear nosed its way through the thick undergrowth. A large cub followed closely behind.  
  
Dean froze in the path, lowering his gun so he did not appear as a threat. The bears climbed the slope up to the path he was on, stopping.  
  
His heart beat steady and hard as the mother turned, looking right at him.   
  
“Shhhhit,” Dean whispered. His rifle was powerful enough to stop an attack if he landed several well-placed bullets. But he had no wish to do that.  
  
The cub stopped, picked up a branch on the path, sat down, and gnawed on it. The mother grumbled at her young and took another step toward crossing the road but stopped.  
  
Dean swallowed slowly. She was watching him very closely. He couldn’t outrun a bear. He couldn’t out-climb a bear. His options were extremely limited.  
  
He tipped his head down in a sign of submission and turned his head slowly toward the right, away from their current trajectory to the left. But he never took his eyes off of them completely.  
  
The cub dropped the branch and looked at its mother, then at Dean.  
  
“Fuck.”   
  
Cubs were curious. If it decided to check him out, its mother was likely to get protective and he was likely to get dead.  
  
The cub stood on all fours and ambled five long paces closer to Dean.  
  
“Go away,” Dean muttered, frozen in his tracks. “Please, please go away.”  
  
The cub stopped, losing interest.   
  
Dean did his damnedest to control his breathing.  
  
The cub crossed the path completely, heading further into the forest. Dean’s hand shook only slightly as the mother bear followed her cub’s footsteps toward him, staring at him.  
  
“Come on, come on,” Dean prayed, pleading with some ancient Indian spirit guide, God, or whoever, that the bear just walk away.  
  
And away it went.  
  
Dean was never so fucking happy to watch the ass end of an animal. He waited several moments, letting the space between him and the bears grow.  
  
And possibly to get his shit together.  
  
With a deep breath, he finally moved on. The forest opened up to thick, straight trunks of ponderosa pines, lodgepole pines, and cedar trees. The air was fresh and all the game he saw were smaller than the bears. The smell of burning trees tinged the air.   
  
As he rounded another bend in the lane, a small house came into view. Moss covered the sloping roof. The entire structure, besides the roof, was made of pine logs.  
  
“Finally,” Dean sighed. A small barn was a short walk from the house. “Yay. Maybe we can ride horses back to civilization.”  
  
The door to the cabin opened when he was ten steps from the porch.  
  
A man stepped out, rifle in hand. Dean stopped in his tracks, re-gripping the rifle in his own hands. This was soooo not what he was expecting.  
  
Hermit - old, cranky, burly, long-bearded mountain person.  
  
What greeted him - mid thirties, trim, athletic build, smooth jawed, blue-eyed, hot as fuck man. Crank factor yet to be determined.  
  
“Morning,” Dean said clear with an attempt at friendliness.  
  
The man, not cracking a smile, stepped further onto the porch, his door slamming shut.  
  
Hmm.  
  
Dean eyed the man’s rifle, not raised, but held firmly in his hands across his waist.   
  
He lowered his own rifle. “My name’s Dean Winchester. I’m from the Forest Services.”  
  
Nothing.  
  
Dean licked his lips, shouldering his rifle altogether. “We’re evacuating the area. There’s a wildfire over the ridge behind me.”  
  
The man merely stared at him. Shit. Did he speak English? Dean took another step closer to the porch. The man lifted the rifle a bit higher, still not really taking any kind of aim.  
  
“Listen,” Dean went on, tugging his backpack around to holster his rifle. He stepped closer to the porch, “I just walked twenty miles up your ridiculous lane to find you.”  
  
“Eleven,” the man said in a deep voice. Again, ripples of cool pleasure coursed through his body. Dean swallowed, still staring at the man’s eyes that matched the blue stretch of sky above them.  
  
Dean continued stepping slowly toward the porch.  
  
“Cup of water?” Dean asked, parking his hands on his hips, squinting up at the guy.  
  
Finally, a look besides the one of stoic granite crossed the man’s face. He frowned. Okay, so cranky might be the only description that he had estimated correctly.  
  
“I’m holding a gun. What part of that invites you closer to my porch?” Cas (he assumed this was ‘Cas’) asked crossly.  
  
“Well,” Dean sighed, his hands dropping to his sides, “that Winchester you’re holding is a relic. If you even have ammo for it, I doubt it’s any good. And, I gotta be honest, you hold it like a sword more than a gun.” He shrugged, giving the man his best charming grin.  
  
“Wait on the porch,” the man said coldly, opening his door to go in.  
  
Dean sighed. “This’ll be fun.”  
  



	2. Flashover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works his magic on Cas. But his questions about the mysterious guy are stacking up.

Chapter 2: Flashover  
  
Flashover (Flaming): The combination of heat, oxygen, and fuel increase the odds of the fire growing to the next stage. This is when the structure (being a building or a forest) becomes the next available fuel source, the fire begins to spread beyond the initial ignition point. Flames are visible and gaining ground. Stage 2 of a fire.  
  
  
  
Dean sat on the only chair on the wide stretch of boards that made the nice porch. He stared at the view. It was gorgeous. He could see the tangled, gray columns of smoke from the oncoming fire.  
  
The stoic man came out of his door again, handing Dean a cup of water. “Thanks,” he grinned up at him. As he took several long swallows, he noted that the man had the right apparel. Flannel, t-shirt, jeans, boots. But, somehow, he looked out of place. Too clean-cut.  
  
“Guess you don’t qualify for Amazon two-day shipping up here, do ya?” Dean chuckled.  
  
Cas turned a questioning look at him.  
  
Oh boy. This guy was a recluse for sure. He glanced over the man’s shoulder, getting only a peek of a living room through the window. “Do you even have electricity?”  
  
“No,” he answered flatly.  
  
Dean nodded. Chatty, this guy.  
  
He took another long drink and sighed. “Beautiful view.”  
  
“Why are you here?” The man asked, impatience thick in his tone.  
  
“You are Cas, right? Guy that owns this land?” Dean asked, enjoying any length of time he had with guy. He was NOT bringing up any property issues of out-dated grandfathering up. Clearly this guy was too young to ever be included in an agreement like that. Property arguments only ever led to violent disputes, in Dean’s experience.  
  
“I am,” he answered, his voice softening slightly for the first time.  
  
Dean pointed at the smoke billowing. “Wildfire. It’s time to pack up and leave. They’re fightin’ the fire hard, but the wind is not in your favor, man. It’s time to go.”  
  
“I am not leaving.”  
  
Here we go.  
  
Dean went into his spiel about how quickly and unpredictably wildfires could burn, how this land was in direct path of the fire, and yada, yada, yada.  
  
The man was absolutely unmoved.  
  
Dean handed the empty cup back. “Look, Cas, I hiked all the way up here to get you. If you don’t come back with me, I’m gonna worry that I’m really bad at my job and I’ll feel responsible if anything happens to you.” He stared right into his stormy blue eyes, taking him head-on.  
  
“You are not responsible for me or this land.”  
  
“Well, that won’t help me sleep at night, now will it?” Dean grinned at the look of confusion on his scowl. It was adorable.  
  
“I don’t see how my being has any bearing on your sleep.”  
  
Dean bit his lips together. Oh, he could go a lot of places with a line like that. But the man clearly was not joking.  
  
“Cas,” Dean said honestly, standing up and stepping closer to him. “Please. It’s time to go.”  
  
Cas stared at him in a long moment of solid stoicism. Only the faintest quirk of a brow even suggested he had heard him at all.  
  
“If you don’t leave,” Dean sighed, “you will be putting my life at risk.”  
  
That had a firm scowl back on the man’s face. “Who would attack you on my behalf?”  
  
Dean stifled a laugh, then let the chuckle go. “No one is going to attack me! Dude. If you don’t come with me now, I’m going to feel obliged to come get you when the fire is closer. I could be wandering the mountainside looking for you.” The humor had left Dean’s rant. “So, while I’m searching the forest for you, chances of me getting killed are much higher. I don’t know about you, but I do not want to burn to death. It’s a nasty way to go.”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Cas insisted.  
  
Dean sighed. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Dean gave the guy a leveling look.  
  
Cas turned away, eyes casting about for an excuse. He stared back at Dean with an intensity that he could physically feel. Dean, never one to succumb under pressure, merely lowered his chin and stared back.  
  
“So, Cas, you gonna do me a solid and pack a bag? Or are you gonna make me hike back up here through the bears. Cause next time, I’ll be bringing back-up.”  
  
Cas frowned harder, turning to stare at his door.  
  
Dean could feel him wavering.  
  
“Tell ya what. Come back to town with me and I’ll buy you a burger at Ellen’s.”  
  
Cas met his eyes. So many emotions passed over his face. Finally, the man sighed. “I do like burgers.”  
  
Dean grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, there we have it.” He didn’t add that it was like a long fucking stroll, dinner, and hell...with a face and body like that, Dean might be hard pressed not to call the whole deal a date.  
  
Cas cleared his throat, attempting a friendlier approach. “Please wait here while I gather a few things.”  
  
Dean deflated in relief. “So, are we walking out? You got a pair of horses in that barn to ride back?”  
  
“No horses, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Looks like you get to take a nice long walk with me then,” Dean grinned.  
  
He was completely unprepared for the smile the man broke into. Cas seemed a bit shy about it, tipping his head down in an almost diffident demeanor as he went inside quickly.  
  
Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, pulling off his Forest Services jacket to cool off before they walked back. He was out of radio range and cell service, so he walked around the porch slowly, looking at all the things crowding it. An herb garden of thyme and lemongrass hung in a box on the railing. Another held oregano, basil, and sage. Two long planters beside the chair were full of lavender. A rope by the door held peppers tied in neat bundles. A wind chime tinkled noisily as the breeze had picked up quite a bit. Above the wind chime, carved into the beam it hung from were symbols Dean had never seen. He glanced toward the door, pulling his phone out to take a picture before Cas returned.   
  
Bobby knew a little bit about every damn thing, so he’d ask him about it later.   
  
He stepped off the porch, glancing around the immediate area. Large honeysuckle bushes grew in a long hedge, edging what looked like a yard of green grass. It was odd that the grass was so green when watering here would be impossible. Especially knowing the property didn’t even have electricity.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when Cas came out of his door with a lightly filled backpack.   
  
Dean got his jacket back on and shouldered his own backpack and rifle. They set out down the lane, walking quietly side by side.  
  
“You always walk to town when you go?” Dean asked, eyes scanning the forest for more bears.  
  
“Yes,” Cas answered simply.  
  
They exchanged brief glances from time to time but said little as they walked.  
  
“How long will I be expected to wait before I can return?” Cas asked quietly.  
  
“Couple days. Depends on where the fire goes. Hopefully, we can get it under control and put out before it gets near your home.”  
  
“You do know that fire is a natural event,” Cas said. “It clears the undergrowth and forest, regenerating to new growth.”  
  
Dean gave him an amused look. “Yeah, I do know that. Doesn’t mean people should stay in its path.”  
  
Cas nodded.  
  
“Lived here long?” Dean asked, loving the low rumble of the man’s voice.  
  
“Very long.”  
  
“So, you live up here alone? No dog to keep you company?”  
  
“No. I do have a cat.”  
  
Dean stopped in his tracks. “We should go back for it. Leaving it trapped in the house, hell, even in the woods, could kill it.”  
  
Cas stopped, turning back to him with a relaxed look. “I told her to leave.”  
  
Dean frowned. He wanted to argue that bringing the animal out of harm’s way would be the better thing to do.  
  
“She’ll be fine,” Cas reassured him. His mouth tipped on one side with a gentle grin. “I saw her go.”  
  
Dean looked back up the lane but went on as Cas began walking.   
  
Dean’s gaze swept across the land on either side of them. “I saw some bears come through here on my way up.”  
  
Cas nodded, walking along easily. Dean supposed seeing bears up here was no new occurrence to him. He wondered at living such a removed life. There was living alone and then there was living ALONE.  
  
Going downhill was always easier. But he had to wonder at how quickly they were covering ground. He checked his cell phone, seeing there was still no service. He turned his radio on. “Jody, you there? It’s Dean, checking in.”  
  
The radio crackled, drawing Cas’ interest. “Hey, Dean. It’s Bobby. Where are you?”  
  
“Walkin’ down the mountain toward Goodyear Creek Road with Cas, the resident I evacuated.”  
  
“You good?”  
  
“Yeah. I’ll head to the school as soon as I can. Where are we on the fire?”  
  
“Ah, it jumped 509 almost immediately and its eatin’ its way toward ya as we speak.”  
  
“Damn,” Dean swore, off the radio. He clicked back in, “See you soon, Bobby.”  
  
“10-4.”  
  
Dean tucked the radio away. They continued down the mountain, seeing a small herd of mule deer as they traveled.  
  
Dean stopped as they neared the foot of the path. “What the hell?”  
  
Cas turned to look at him. “What is it?”  
  
“These trees...there wasn’t an open lane here.”  
  
Cas gave the trees a worried look. “It...we changed paths; this lane is more easily accessible.”  
  
“Yeah, no kidding. I hiked through all those fir trees to find the damn lane. This makes no sense!”  
  
“Perhaps you remembered it differently,” Cas suggested, continuing on the path at a quicker pace.  
  
“Dude, I don’t remember it wrong. The trees were -” What? The trees had moved? The path had been longer? He shook his head, baffled. Maybe he was way more tired than he thought. As he passed the familiar trees at the bottom of the lane, Dean froze again. He spotted the symbols carved high in the trees. But the trees were a good three feet further apart than he remembered them to be. “What the fuck?”  
  
He looked out at the road, seeing Cas standing on the edge of the gravel with a slightly lost expression.  
  
Dean, deciding moving trees was absolute insanity and reporting or arguing it would only get him put in an off-duty status, pulled his keys from the backpack, unlocking the green truck.  
  
After loading their gear in the back seat, Dean headed back toward the main road. Cas gripped the door handle and the seat, staring out the window with wide eyes. It was almost comical until it occurred to Dean that maybe Cas rarely ever rode in a vehicle. He slowed his speed, watching his counterpart curiously.  
  
“I take it you don’t ride in cars too often,” Dean grinned, easing around a bend in the road.  
  
“No,” Cas said nervously.  
  
Dean covered a grin with one hand, elbow propped on the window frame. This guy was going to need some acclimation time. He slowed down to a painful twenty-five miles per hour, seeing the man’s arms relax, though his grips remained secure.  
  
“After lunch, I’m taking you to the local elementary school in Downieville. They have rooms set up for people to put their stuff in and beds to sleep in.” The man nodded, his eyes still wide and watchful. “They have food and water and blankets and...it’s a pretty good set-up.” Dean glanced at him again, seeing he had relaxed against the seat a bit.  
  
“Have you ever lived anywhere besides your place?” Dean asked, still trying to gauge the man’s responses.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
So, not a total forest bug. He took note of his stiff form. “You ever been to war, Cas?”  
  
Cas’ blue eyes left the road for the first time, drilling into Dean. “Yes. Many times. Why?”  
  
Dean tamped down his regret for asking. At least he understood the guy a little bit more. “You just got that ex-military vibe, ya know? The rigid posture and the look vets get when going into crowded situations they don’t want to be in. My dad was a Marine. He, uh...he likes to have his back to the wall, ya know? Able to see the entrances and exits in a room. No surprises.” He gave Cas what he hoped was an understanding, encouraging grin.  
  
“Yes. I would appreciate that.”  
  
His speech was formal too. No accent to speak of, but certainly not what he had pegged for someone living in the woods for years.  
  
Dean paced himself to let the man continue to acclimate.  
  
“Air conditioning,” Cas stated, staring at the dashboard.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “Feels good, right?”  
  
“It feels...forcibly cold. Like the ether of space.”  
  
Dean stared at him in wonder. Okay, that was weird. Dean decided to just let that one slide. Especially when Cas gave him a guilty side-eye, looking away sheepishly.  
  
Alright, beautiful, possibly a veteran...if nothing else, Dean would give the guy his due respect and handle him with a bit more caution than most.  
  
Dean parked the truck at The Roadhouse. “Ready for a burger?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas nodded, a small grin tugging the left side of his mouth.  
  
Dean led the way, motioning to Ellen that he was headed to the back corner.  
  
Ellen and Jo exchanged surprised looks. Jo grabbed menus and met them at the table.  
  
“Hi, Cas,” she smiled sweetly, eliciting a shy nod from the man.  
  
“Hello, Jo.”  
  
She handed them each a menu. “Water?”  
  
“Yes,” they both answered. “We’re gonna get this to go,” Dean added.  
  
“Sure,” Jo nodded.   
  
“I would like a burger, please.”  
  
Jo grinned at him. “I remember. Three cheeseburgers. No onions. No fries.”  
  
“Yes.” Cas smiled up at her. Dean smiled just watching him.   
  
“So, you do like burgers,” Dean chuckled.  
  
“Oh yeah. He walks to town once a year to celebrate his birthday and get supplies every September 10th,” Jo grinned. “A whole case of coffee and two packs of coffee filters.” Jo put a hand up to her mouth in mock whisper. “Big shopper, this guy.” She walked back toward the bar.  
  
“Hey! What about me?” Dean called after her, throwing both hands up with a laugh.  
  
“You’re gettin’ a burger, if you were with anyone else, you’d be gettin’ told to leave town,” she yelled back.  
  
Dean turned, lighting up at the sound of the man chuckling. “Don’t encourage her!” Dean laughed, putting the menus at the end of the table. “Can I have fries?” He yelled.  
  
“Yer pushin’ it, Winchester,” he heard from behind the door to the kitchen.  
  
He exchanged a grin with Cas, his chest warming at the response, making him look down idly, trying not to blush.  
  
A comfortable silence set in as Dean pulled his phone out and sighed at all the texts and updates coming through. The fire was spreading west and north. His mother and Sam had texted him to check on him. Charlie said she was back at the school and was already out with another team, laying down a controlled burn to the north.   
  
He looked up, realizing the guy was studying him quite closely. He looked down as Dean met his gaze and pocketed the phone.  
  
“Do you do this sort of thing often?”  
  
Dean blinked at the question. “Eat burgers? As often as possible.”  
  
Ah, another grin.  
  
“No,” Cas said smoothly. It was quiet with a quality so velvety that Dean swore he could actually feel it. “Fight fires.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah.” He looked out the window. “Usually I’m one of the guys jumping out of a helicopter to fight the flames on the ground. But...” he turned back, meeting Cas’ blue eyes. “But I’m getting too old. I got a bad knee that doesn’t like sudden landings and my lungs aren’t what they used to be.”  
  
Cas nodded, more serious now. “It’s very brave, Dean Winchester.”  
  
Their eyes met again. Dean had the same sensation he had every time he made direct eye contact with him. It was like stepping around the corner of a building, going from no breeze to a full-blown gust. It made him want to gasp, to draw up to his full height, and clench his jacket close. It was exhilarating and shook him gently, making him suddenly aware of...everything...and nothing but blue at the same time.  
  
He jumped as two glasses of water were put on the table. “Your order will be ready in a few minutes,” Jo said.  
  
He noticed then that Cas, while it seemed he looked other people in the eyes, did not. It made Dean wonder if Jo had ever felt the power of a direct gaze from him.  
  
“Thanks,” he barely managed as she walked away.  
  
Cas began taking money out of his pocket. He seemed to not have a wallet to speak of and lay forty dollars on the table.  
  
“I can get my own,” Dean insisted.  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” Cas said evenly. “It is...a thank you for making sure I will be safe.”  
  
“Well...I can’t accept gifts from the people I work with. It wouldn’t be right.”  
  
Cas met his gaze again, whisking his breath away momentarily. “Today it is alright.”  
  
Dean knew he should argue and insist, but Cas was so different. It seemed much, much simpler to just let it go. For now. “Thank you.”  
  
  
They collected their orders and headed toward the elementary school. Dean continued to drive slowly, irritating the shit out of the people behind him. But they could just wait a fucking minute. His new buddy needed a slow hand and that’s exactly what he was going to get.  
  
They pulled into the school and gathered all their gear and belongings out of the back seat. Cas even helped him carry some of Charlie’s things inside.  
  
Unlike how he had relaxed a little while they were at The Roadhouse, Cas seemed back to his stiff, stoic, formal self, amongst the hustle and bustle of the school.  
  
If Cas was a vet with PTSD, Dean was going to be sure he got settled okay. So he explained everything they did, where they were going, and what to expect next.  
  
After turning in all the gear, he took his quiet friend to meet Bobby.  
  
“Bobby, this is Cas. He’s from way the hell up Goodyear Creek Road.”  
  
Bobby, sitting behind a mess of papers, charts, maps, and a laptop, held a hand out to shake his.  
  
Cas stared at it, then jumped into action, shaking Bobby’s hand. “H-hello.”  
  
“Which campsite were staying at?” Bobby asked. Dean cut in quickly, “Cas lives out Goodyear Creek Road.” They had worked together long enough that Bobby only frowned a little, putting together that Cas was probably technically squatting on state land under an old land ownership agreement. “Name and Address?” Bobby asked.  
  
Cas frowned. “Cas. I live...” Cas glanced down at the map, “here,” he pointed.  
  
Bobby’s eyes shifted over to Dean, who simply raised a brow back at him.  
  
Bobby looked at the map. He wrote coordinates down. “I’m still gonna need a last name.”  
  
Dean chalked the man’s behavior up to being overwhelmed. He turned to Cas, who was frowning at the floor.  
  
“Novak,” Cas said quietly. “James Castiel Novak.”  
  
Bobby wrote it down, stifling any comment he had about Cas’ behavior.  
  
“You got a quiet room with no kids in it?” Dean asked, grinning at the look on Bobby’s face when their eyes met.  
  
“Ssssuure,” Bobby nodded, pulling up another paper. He definitely lacked the organization his wife commanded. But he kept a tight ship, nonetheless.  
  
He assigned Cas to a room, pointing to where he could get some supplies and gave him the run-down on how to get updates.  
  
Dean walked him to his room, carrying the standard issue supplies to get him settled, blanket, hygiene items, and water.  
  
They tapped on the door to room 300. If Dean had to guess, the room had been for third graders a week ago. There were still posters with multiplication tables on them.  
  
There were six cots set up in the room. Dean eyed the only other people in there. A man sat in the furthest cot by the window and a woman lay sleeping in the next one.  
  
“Here,” Dean said quietly, going to the cot in the corner. He put the donated supplies on the end of the cot. He pushed it tight against the wall and turned to the guy in hopes that this was going to be enough private space for him. He was oh so tempted to invite him back to his own motel room.  
  
“Thank you,” Cas said, bowing his head slightly. Dean’s spirits sunk as he watched the guy sit gingerly on the side of the bed, Roadhouse bag curled into both hands.  
  
“I’d give you my number but I’m sure you don’t have a cell phone,” Dean grinned down at him.  
  
“I do not,” Cas answered.  
  
“Well, hey, I mean, you just hang out here and relax and...I’ll check in on you later,” Dean offered.  
  
“That will not be necessary,” Cas shook his head with a small frown. “If you are here in September, I could see you then.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows jumped. Well, if that wasn’t a brush-off, he didn’t know what was.  
  
“Alright,” he stepped into the doorway. “It was nice meeting you, Cas. I hope things work out for ya.”  
  
The tiniest nod was all he got. Dean headed back to the cafeteria. It felt odd to leave the man alone like that. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much. The guy obviously did not feel the need to have him around. He crossed the worn floor of the wide-open room. This fire was about more than one guy. He really needed to get his head in the game.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Things are going to really heat up tomorrow!


	3. Conflagration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean get to know each other a bit better.   
> The fire begins to rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been interesting to see how many of our lives have been touched by firefighters. Thank you, to all of you, who have been a hero to someone in a moment of need. From dispatcher, to police, to ambulance, to firefighter and everyone who puts a calming hand on a frightened, hurt, or even angry person caught in a moment they were unprepared for. First responders...thank you. And kudos to you❤️

Chapter 3: Conflagration  
  
Conflagration - A raging, destructive fire. Often used to describe a fire burning under extreme fire weather. The term is also used when a wildland fire burns into a wildland/urban interface, destroying many structures.  
  
  
Dean sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria. He had spent four hours cleaning and changing gear on one of the rigs to restock and repair it with Bobby. He guzzled a bottle of water, he wanted to catch his breath, check on Cas, and then see where Jody wanted him next. He wheezed and coughed, catching his breath again, avoiding Bobby’s eye.  
  
Ash, one of the fire investigators, popped a refreshed image onto the large screen on the wall as three new commands were briefing before being mobilized to work on the raging wildfire.  
  
“We’ve got extreme fire behavior heading west with crown fire here,” he pointed along a yellowed stretch of forest, “crossing Collin’s Ravine. That ravine is full of duff. We stand to lose a lot more ground if we can’t stop this finger of the fire.”  
  
Dean crinkled the flimsy bottle in his fingers as he stifled another spine-cracking set of coughs. He stepped out of the room, knowing the noise he was making was disruptive as hell. After a few calm wheezes, he cleared his throat and leaned against the hallway wall. Crown fire in winds like they were experiencing, would travel from treetop to treetop. With this area having such a dry summer, the fire weather was impossible to keep up with. The trees would torch quickly, burning down to the ground. The bad news was that it could spread extremely fast. The good news was that this kind of fire, if handled quickly, could be dowsed by airplane tankers dumping water down on them.  
  
Unfortunately for Cas, that finger of the fire was zipping straight for his home. Thinking of the man’s uneasy form as he had left him sitting on the side of the bed, Dean decided to go check on him. None of this was going to be easy for him.  
  
He knocked lightly on room 300’s door with one knuckle as he pushed it open further. Two men looked up at him from the two beds closest to Cas’. “Hey,” he waved. “Just checkin’ on-” Cas’ bed sat empty. “Cas. You seen him?”  
  
The two men sitting on cots shook their heads no. Dean was hit with an immediate feeling of unease. The supplies Cas had been given were neatly folded on the cot and the Roadhouse bag was discarded in the trash can by the door. Where the hell did he go? He looked around the entire building, then began checking with people. When he went back to the room to ask about him again, the man closest to the window told him Cas had disappeared almost as soon as Dean had left him.  
  
“He sat there and ate a couple hamburgers, acting like he never tasted anything so good before. Next time I looked over; he was gone!” The man by the window explained.  
  
He went back to Bobby, getting the keys to one of the work trucks. “Still can’t find Cas?”  
  
“Nope. I’m thinking he tried to go back home. I should be able to catch him along the road. Unless he cuts through the forest.”  
  
“It’s gettin’ bad out there, Dean. Don’t be doin’ anything stupid.”  
  
“Only what you taught me,” Dean winked, spinning the keys around his index finger, and gripping them.  
  
Bobby gave him a truly worried look.  
  
“Hey, the guy doesn’t...fit in. This was maybe too much for him. I shoulda made sure he got a room to himself. It’s pretty damn obvious he doesn’t get around people often. Did I tell you he met me at the door with an 1873 Winchester that he didn’t look like he ever fired before? Kinda looked like he might use it to stab me with before he would ever even think about pulling the trigger.”  
  
Bobby grinned. “Regardless, sounds like you got yerself a real and true mountain man, Dean. Be careful.”  
  
Dean nodded. He went to gear up. He slipped out the door before anyone could stop him or tag along. What he was doing was risky. He wasn’t dragging anyone else into this.  
  
As he headed north on Goodyear Creek Road, he could see orange flames glowing through the trees. Smoke clouded the air, making him proceed slower than he would have liked. He passed equipment and people getting ready to lay down chemical barriers as he neared the end of the road.  
  
Like before, he could see the path to Cas’ property, crowded with trees like the first time. He parked the truck against the foot of the path and began hiking.  
  
He saw even more wildlife on this trek up the mountain. Foxes, beavers, porcupines, and even the distinct silhouette of a mountain lion. All of them were more interested in heading over the mountain than in him as he hiked and coughed. Smoke choked the air, making his eyes burn and his breathing labored.  
  
He stopped mid lane to put his SBA on. The self-contained breathing apparatus had 30 minutes of breathable air.   
  
As he left the bottom third of the slope, where cooler air was moving and he had not seen any actual flames, he stopped to put the mask away. And cough. He had ten minutes of breathable air left. As he climbed the slope, entering the middle third altitude, that firefighters called the thermal belt, he could feel the temperature heat up again quickly and feel the dry, smoky heat of it on his bare forearms. He continued hiking as fast as his aching knee allowed. But every minute higher, he worried about how how much air he was going to need on the way back down. The further he went, the worse he felt about it. Stopping, he wheezed into another fit of coughs, noting how much closer the smoke was to the path he was on. It was creeping closer with every gust of wind. He stared up the path, wishing he knew what to do. He trudged forward; sure Cas had tried to go back home.   
  
After another mile and no Cas, Dean stopped again. He had an eerie feeling something was watching him. He scanned his surroundings, not seeing anything but smoke clinging to the thicker part of the forest, trees, and leaves.   
  
“Cas. I know you’re up there, dammit!” Dean kicked a stone on the path. The real dilemma was whether to spend his ten minutes of air getting back down the slope of the ravine to the fresher air and give up on Cas, or to keep going, pray the air cleared, and find out if Cas was actually there.   
  
He looked up the path, then down.   
  
Shit.  
  
Ten minutes of breathable air wasn’t gonna cut it.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He turned toward Cas’ place again and started hiking as fast as he could go. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a heavy flutter. He looked ahead and squinted in the smoky haze.  
  
Cas stood in the center of the lane, a brooding scowl on his face.  
  
“I knew it! I knew you tried to come back home!” Dean yelled. “Cas, you gotta come back with me!” Dean choked on the dry, smoky air, coughing.  
  
“Why are you here?” Cas demanded.  
  
Dean stammered. His skin was sticky with sweat and soot. He knew his hair stuck up wildly from being in the helmet. Yet, Cas looked completely unfazed.   
  
“Are you shitting me?!” Dean demanded back, closing the gap between them. “Your mountain is on fire! We have to get out of here!”  
  
Cas looked pissed, turning his head to the side. “You should not have come.”  
  
“You planning on dying here? That it?” Dean yelled. “We -” He turned, hearing the unmistakable sound of branches snapping and the whooshing roar of fire. Crown fire, to be exact, lighting treetops on fire close enough that he could see the orange, angry glow of flames high in the trees behind him. He turned, staring at it. “We gotta go!” But even as he shouted it, he was unconvinced they weren’t already trapped.  
  
He turned back to Cas. “You know these woods well, right?” He coughed hard, wheezing. “We’re gonna have to head into the woods!”  
  
Dean waved for Cas to follow as he took off between two trees.  
  
“Dean!” Cas yelled.  
  
But as long as he would follow, Dean kept moving south. He stopped as Cas caught up to him, clamping an impossibly strong hand onto his shoulder. “Dean! Stop!”  
  
Dean stopped, coughed, and turned to Cas as tears blurred his vision from all the smoke.  
  
The fire leapt the path with ease as the wind gusted brutally. “We gotta run!”  
  
Cas’ hand stayed like a bear trap. “No, Dean!”  
  
The roar of the fire shocked Dean as it crackled and hissed, and wood withered to ash in front of his very eyes. He was going to die in a fire. Why would anyone stay for this?  
  
The wind gusted hot and impossibly dry, drying his eyes, and making him cough and gasp for breath. The fabric of his clothes hissed, nearing combustion. Crashing limbs sounded above them.  
  
Cas pulled Dean into his chest, hugging him close. As if this wasn’t shocking enough, wings, black and huge surrounded them, walling off the smoke and wind until Dean could see only a patch of light above their heads.  
  
A loud cracking sounded above them, and Cas’ embrace tightened as flaming tree limbs dropped, hit the giant wings, and fell away.  
  
In total shock, Dean gasped, he coughed again so hard that it shook them both. Cas reached between them, placing his palm on Dean’s chest.  
  
A maddening tickle could be felt deep in his chest, his lungs spasmed and then a cool sensation filled them.  
  
Cas pulled his hand away, wrapping his arm around Dean again.  
  
Dean could breathe. Strong and clear.  
  
“What did you do?” Dean whispered in utter shock and confusion, staring into eyes that weren’t just blue but radiated a blue-white light.  
  
He had to be hallucinating!  
  
“Stay as close to me as possible,” Cas ordered. He turned Dean so his back was firmly against Cas’ chest with one hand gripping his waist and the other gripping his shirt right over his chest. One of the huge, glossy wings swung away to the side. The forest was raining burning debris from above. The canopy around them was hissing and burning. Cas began walking, his arms tightening to keep his grip on Dean while lifting the wings, one covering their heads and the other arching out protectively. They found the path and began walking quickly toward Cas’ house.  
  
Dean’s head was buzzing with confusion. All he could do was watch the wings that kept him covered and kept back the falling branches. When they finally broke free of the lane, Cas’ wings opened completely to shake off the ash and debris.  
  
As soon as Dean’s feet hit the porch, he whirled around, backing out of Cas’ arms. And wings. He had huge, black wings! “What the hell are you?”  
  
Cas stepped onto the porch, his wings folding in to accommodate the confined space. “You’re welcome,” he said tersely.  
  
Dean flattened his back against the door, keeping as much space between them as possible. His eyes bulged at the looming wings that dragged on the porch.  
  
“I’m an angel, you ass.”  
  
“A...what?” Dean croaked.  
  
Cas stepped closer, seeming so much larger and more spectacular than before. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”  
  
This time, when their eyes met and Dean was flooded with the gasp that took his breath and caused a skip in his heartbeat, he understood why.  
  
“Shit,” he squeaked.  
  
Dean hedged to the right, terrified and overwhelmed. He gasped again when Cas reached out, stopping him from moving.  
  
“You need to stay close. The air is becoming unbreathable for you.”  
  
Dean was not proud to admit it, but his knees were shaking. Seeming to understand how truly frightened Dean was, Cas’ wings lowered, and his glare softened. “I won’t let the fire consume you.”  
  
Dean’s jaw gaped, but nothing intelligible came out.  
  
Cas turned to watch the mountainside. It was fully dark by now and the orange glow of the fire lit up with a sickening expanse. “I’m keeping the fire at bay. But you seem to have a way of breaking through all my warding.”  
  
Dean looked too, seeing the heart of the fire far off, but a finger of it where Dean had walked in, was burning.  
  
“I...I didn’t know,” Dean whispered, still shaken.  
  
“Of course you didn’t,” Cas said more gently. He turned back to Dean. “You’ll have to stay here, now that you know.”  
  
Dean blinked at him. He was at a complete loss of what to do.  
  
“Something about you,” the angel muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing onto Dean, searching him so perceptively Dean had the notion to put a hand up to fend him off. “You walked right through my warding,” Cas murmured, his head tipping to the side. “It confuses and turns away everyone else.”  
  
Dean swallowed, still staring at him as if he were a giant vulture prepared to peck his head off at any second. Wind gusted again, blowing Cas’ unruly hair. With it came the acrid smell of burning woodland.  
  
The nearing fire roared with a cacophony of snapping limbs and searing, shrieking wood. Dean spiraled into double panic mode. “We gotta get out of here,” he whispered frantically, fearful his comment would anger whatever Cas said he was.   
  
“Wait here,” Cas said sternly, turning to step off the porch. As he did so, Dean’s eyes widened again at the sight of the enormous wings, thick with shiny black feathers. As he stepped down off the porch, the wings extended again, arching high.  
  
He took four purposeful strides away from the house, straight toward the trees, now flaming at their tops. He bent both knees and leapt, the wings beating hard to lift him high.  
  
Dean’s brain could not handle what he was seeing! Cas had wings! And he was fucking flying!

Dean ran, jumped the side rail of the porch, and ran as hard as he could. He cleared the field and threaded his way into the woods, clambering through low branches, scrambling over fallen trees and low-lying ground cover. He stopped short as a crash sounded near him. He turned, seeing a burning tree fall. He heard crackling above him and looked up. He had run straight into more crown fire. The very air around him seemed to vacuum upward as embers and burning bits of tree began to rain down on him.  
  
He ran again, gasping for breath, beating burning debris off his shoulders. He skidded to a halt as a tree came crashing down in front of him, underbrush igniting almost immediately. A mighty crack sounded above him. He looked up and saw a huge branch fall.  
  
The hard flutter of wings sounded around him, two quick steps thudded, and Dean found himself covered from behind, bent and huddled to the ground with Cas over him. Black wings cocooned them just as the branch hit.  
  
Cas, his face tucked over Dean’s right shoulder cried out, the shell of wings arching away on the right to throw the burning branch off of them. The wing covered them again and Cas gasped in pain as he bared down even tighter on Dean.  
  
Dean, huddled to the dirt, could only blink and gasp as Cas’ wings took the rain of burning embers, more falling branches, and fended away fire on the ground. His hands gripped Dean so tight on his chest that Dean began to push up.  
  
“I told you to wait!” Cas snarled in his ear, scaring the shit out of Dean, truly making him huddle again.  
  
A loud, ripping crack began beside them. Cas lifted his head and chest away from Dean, spreading a few feathers. Whatever he saw must have been bad because he spread his legs around Dean’s hips, launching to a standing position, dragging Dean with him.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey!” Dean yelled, pulling away but getting nowhere.  
  
Cas gripped him all the tighter, bent at the knees, and launched them both upwards.  
  
Dean knew he screamed. He had the distinct sensation of almost being dropped as Cas fought his way out of the trees, the entire time heading skyward.  
  
They burst through a torrent of sparks, fire, and burning leaves, into smoky air. Free of the burning canopy, Cas’ wings snapped out sharply and beat hard several beats before they actually cleared the flames. Dean clung to the angel’s arms, knowing it was all that was stopping him from plummeting back into the sea of fire below them and the deadly drop to the ground below that.  
  
He screamed again at the fear that clenched his insides. He felt jerked and hauled and completely out of control.  
  
He blinked rapidly, desperate to figure out where he was, when the ground seemed to slam into them with a force harder than anything Dean had ever felt.  
  
Cas, draped fully over him, huffed, and got to his hands and knees with a high-pitched keening sound, his wings trembling above them.  
  
Dean gasped. His body felt crushed from the fall. They had fallen so hard that they were caved into the ground a good foot. A choked sound came out of him, dirt crumbling against his mouth.  
  
“Dean!” Cas panted, smelling him.

Dean tried to move, tried to lift his head. Nothing worked and everything felt too heavy and like his insides were too jumbled.

He felt the angel put his hand on the back of his neck. He was flooded with blue-white light as his body filled with a rush of cold, then flooded just as quickly warm as things inside of him seemed to shift and settle into their correct places. Dean took a deep breath as the angel almost collapsed over him.  
  
Cas fought to get upright, swaying over him. His hands gripped the torn earth in front of Dean, giving him several inches of space between their chest and back for the first time.  
  
Dean took a deep breath, taking quick stock of his body. He was fine. His lungs didn’t even have the gritty drag to them that he was used to. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Cas’ face pinched with pain. His chest heaved and his eyes were squeezed shut. Breaths puffed from his clenched jaw and his wings arched above him crookedly.  
  
“Cas?” Dean asked, suddenly terrified that he was hurt. He turned fully, shifting his hips around in the caved-in dip of ground they were in, shuffled his feet around Cas’ and stared up at him fully. “Cas!” He reached up, his hand filthy with soot and dirt, cupping the angel’s cheek in his hand.  
  
Cas gasped, his body convulsing one hard shudder. His eyes opened, so bright blue they were almost glowing. Dean blinked rapidly up at him. They WERE glowing!  
  
“Cas?” Dean whispered, searching for the man he had spent half the day with.  
  
The angel blinked again, the glow dimming until only the familiar blue eyes stared at him. “Dean. Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m...” Dean licked his lips. I just crashed so hard into the Earth that we fucking dented it, he wanted to say. “I’m okay.”  
  
Relief flooded Cas’ face as the weight of whatever hurt him became harder to bear.   
  
Dean’s thumb swept over his cheek as Cas’ head pressed into his palm harder. “Cas, are you okay?”  
  
“I will be,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes glowed again, and he arched above him, his wings arched in a canopy that made Dean’s insides tremble. Something eased in Cas and his face relaxed as his breath puffed again.   
  
Sparks danced above Cas’ head, drawing Dean’s attention beyond themselves. A fat ember floated their way and Dean realized they had not quiet cleared the woods. The destructive roar of the fire and loud, splitting, splintering wood was still around them.  
  
“Cas! We gotta get out of here!”  
  
“I know,” Cas said, looking to the side for a path out.  
  
“CAS!” Dean yelled, seeing another burning limb coming for them. Too late to move, he hugged Cas’ head to himself, gasping as the wings whooshed around them again. Cas curled over him again, taking the brunt of the falling limb. He felt Cas’ body jolt as he cried out in pain, then quickly surge again, his wings shoving away the burning debris. One arm circled behind Dean’s neck as he grit his teeth in renewed pain.  
  
“Hold on!” Cas yelled. Dean nodded, tucking his face into Cas’ neck now. He even helped kick off as Cas got to his feet again, leaping with better footing this time.  
  
The flight was short but smoother as they cleared the edge of the woods and skidded to the steps of the porch.  
  
Dean, better acquainted with where up and down were this time, helped stagger into the half-run they did onto the porch.   
  
Cas grabbed the door, pushing Dean inside as he followed closely behind, slamming it shut.  
  
Cas leaned heavily against the door, his chest heaving.  
  
Dean staggered, falling into a chair. “Cas, we can’t stay here. The fire -”  
  
“The house is protected,” Cas snapped, pulling away from the door and wall, his wings moving limply.  
  
“Protected how?” Dean asked, really feeling like he had totally lost his mind.  
  
“Me. I am protecting the house. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”  
  
Dean’s jaw snapped shut. He watched as Cas dropped to his knees right there with his back to his front door, his wings dropped to spread out at his sides. He put both palms to the floor and proceeded to kneel that way, silent for quite some time. Dean watched out the window as trees burned from the top down. None fell into the clearing in front of or beside Cas’ house. Even the smoke billowed against an invisible wall just beyond the yard. It was like being on the inside of a snow globe.  
  
His hands shook. His knees shook.   
  
He sat at the edge of the comfortable chair, trying his best to not disrupt whatever the creature was doing. Or thought he was doing.  
  
Dean’s head dropped into his hands. He was pretty damn sure the fall outside had broken his back. Then Cas had healed him. He had healed him of so many things. He looked at his arms and took stock of himself. Small burns were healed, old scars gone, old hurting joints moved easily, his lungs felt clear, hell, even his knee felt better. He stared at the rise and fall of the creature’s back, his wings draped out to the sides, strewn across the room. After several long, silent minutes, he stood, staring with open curiosity at the wings. There was a row of eight large feathers broken and burnt. One section high to the crest of the right wing looked mounded. Looking to the left wing, it did not have the same rising lump. Other feathers were broken, burned, or missing.  
  
He knelt down, reaching out a shaky hand to touch the strangest thing he had ever seen. His hand settled gently onto the top, solid edge of the left wing.  
  
Cas’ head jerked up as Dean’s palm made contact to soft, silky feathers.  
  
Cas’ head jerked to stare at him, growling. The feathers turned razor sharp, making Dean jerk his hand away, slicing his palm and fingers with ribboning cuts.  
  
The wings arched, bristling menacingly. Cas’ mouth opened in a feral growl, hissing. His face had morphed to sharper cheekbones, sharp teeth, and glowing eyes. He looked anything other than heavenly.  
  
Dean fell back onto his butt and scooted away in agony, cradling his hand to his chest as he scooted backwards “Shit! I’m sorry!”  
  
Cas lunged forward, his hand grabbing him square in the chest, dragging him back to him.  
  
“I’m sorry I touched you!” Dean gasped, blood pouring down his arm. “I’m sorry! Cas!”  
  
The name seemed to catch the wild animal’s attention as he loomed above him. His eyes dimmed and his face morphed back to the man he recognized. “No,” Cas said, pain in his eyes. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” He reached out, Dean flinching hard.  
  
Cas slowed his reach, looking at him apologetically. “Dean, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, touching Dean’s forehead with two fingers.  
  
The shock of cold, followed by heat, raced through him, filling his hand instantly.  
  
Cas pulled his fingers away, sitting up on his knees, letting go of Dean’s chest where he had been pinning him to the floor.   
  
Dean scooted backwards until his back hit the chair. It was too much. He didn’t understand any of it. Nothing in his world made sense. He pulled his knees tight against his chest, hiding his arms between his thighs and chest, his head tucking down into a protective ball.  
  
He wanted to be anywhere but here.  
  
Anywhere that made sense.  
  
He had gotten himself into some sort of hell he couldn’t escape. He rocked slightly, not wanting to do anything wrong again, not wanting to see anything else he didn’t understand.   
  
“Dean,” came Cas’ pleading voice at his side. “I’m so, so sorry. I was...it has been a long time since I have been around humans. I’m hurt and trying to keep us safe and it’s still no excuse. I did not mean to hurt you.”  
  
Dean flinched at the feeling of Cas’ hand on his arm. Cas quickly let go, moving back to where he had been kneeling.  
  
After several minutes of silence, Dean lifted his head, peeking out at the monster.  
  
Cas was kneeling, head bowed, wings limp.   
  
Dean lifted his chin a tiny bit higher, watching the creature warily.  
  
“I am,” Cas began explaining slow and calm, “warding the house and land around us. I am trying extremely hard to protect us from the fire.”  
  
Dean put his head back down, not moving. Whatever Cas was doing, he was not disturbing him ever again. He ran his thumb across his now-healed palm and fingers. He would think he had imagined the entire thing, but blood was drying all over his hand and arm from where it had bled.   
  
Slowly, without showing any outward movement, Dean worked his pant leg up to get his knife in his hand. He was done being caught off guard. None of his training had prepared him for any crazy shit like this. But he was John Winchester’s son, and not for not, he could defend himself quite handily if necessary.  



	4. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns so many things.

Chapter 4: Transition  
  
  
  
Fully Developed (Transition): As more fuel becomes consumed, the fire moves into a fully developed state. This is the most dangerous phase of a fire, and the hottest. At the peak of combustion, once all the material has been ignited. Stage 3 of a fire.  
  
  
  
Dean studied the crouched figure in front of him. He needed to stop reacting and start thinking. He eyed the inky black wings. He said he was an angel.  
  
Well. He seriously doubted that.  
  
So, what the hell was he? He had wings. His eyes glowed. He was hiding away up here with no electricity. He said he’d been to war many times. That might be true. He just wondered what kind of fucking war a creature like that gets into. And who the hell would fight them? Were there more creatures like him?  
  
As he wondered more about him, he relaxed. His head slowly lifted, though he kept his knees bent, still hiding the knife that he gripped in his hand. Whatever he was, he was cranky and easily angered.  
  
Dean turned toward the windows. He slowly got to his feet, stepping gingerly to the nearest one. He kept his movements slow, feeling better with a bit more distance between them. The crown fire was no longer eating away the edge of the forest that lined Cas’ yard. It was further back. The tops of the trees were still burnt and sticking up in charred branches, but the rest was untouched. Like an invisible wall stopped it, the smoke and fire billowed in an unnatural line that moved slowly away from them.  
  
Dean turned as Cas huffed heavily and some sort of pulse surged out from his hands. Dean braced himself but only felt a gentle bump and an unexplainable sweep of power rush through him. Outside, the fire and smoke pressed back in all directions for a quarter of a mile.  
  
Cas collapsed on the floor.  
  
Dean froze in his spot. The creature wasn’t moving.  
  
Dean wavered. He could try to run again. He shivered at the thought of Cas swooping down on him once more. Not only had he sprouted gigantic wings, he could freaking fly, he was abnormally strong, he was doing some kind of magic, and his face had contorted into something frightening.   
  
But now he wasn’t moving.  
  
Dean took a tentative step forward. Was he dead? Was he sleeping? Did angels sleep? Did they die? He didn’t fucking know!  
  
“Cas?” Dean said quietly.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Cas.” Dean thumped the palm of his hand on the wall, trying to rouse the crumpled creature.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He stepped closer, nudging a wing with the toe of his boot. “Cas!” The wing gave no sign of life, nor the man attached to it.  
  
Dean glanced around the tiny cabin. It was one large room with four doors total. The door to get to the porch, a back door, and two doors that were closed. He opened the one nearest to him. It was a large walk-in pantry. The second was to what Dean guessed was the bedroom, though he had never seen a bed like that. It was made of thick, intertwined branches, giving it the look of a huge basket. Or a nest.  
  
“What the fuck?” Dean stared.  
  
Inside the bed/nest were mounds of white blankets. It looked...cozy.  
  
He shut the door, still keeping a close eye on the collapsed Cas. He opened the door a crack and slammed it closed louder. Still, Cas did not move.  
  
“Shit.”  
  
He crossed the room again, nudging the other wing a bit harder and got no response. He reached for his radio, but it was gone. He must have lost it in the woods. He pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket, prying the bottom of it away from the fabric-lined pocket and stared at it. It was melted into a misshapen black chunk.  
  
“That’s fucking perfect.”  
  
He knelt down, still attempting to keep distance between them, re-gripping the knife just in case. He reached out. “Cas? Are you okay? I’m gonna...touch you, okay?”  
  
Dean put his hand on Cas’ shoulder shaking him. No response. He shook him harder.  
  
“Shit. Come on, Cas. Wake up.” He scooted closer, moving a lifeless arm. “Cas!”  
  
Angel, creature, man, whatever the hell he was, he wasn’t breathing. His instincts took over and he tossed the knife, feeling for a pulse. If there was one, it was faint and irregular.  
  
He struggled to turn the body over, lifting the heavy wing to flop it over so he could do CPR. He pulled the other wing out from under his body, so he lay as flat on the floor as possible. He patted the man’s face and leaned down. No breath sounds and his chest was eerily still. “Cas!” He shook him and started chest compressions, tilted his head and chin, and blew a breath into the man’s mouth. “Come on!” He went back to chest compressions and leaned down again. Just as his mouth was about to make contact again, Cas’ blue eyes shot open wide and he gasped.  
  
Dean scurried back a few feet, watching as the wings moved limply and Cas’ hands went to his own chest and he heaved in several breaths.  
  
Frozen in his crouched position only a few feet from him, Dean watched as Cas’ breathing evened out and he attempted to sit up but fell back to the floor, exhausted.  
  
“Cas?” Dean crawled a foot closer. “Are you okay?”  
  
Cas tipped his head back, looking at Dean. “I am okay. Thank you.”  
  
Dean sat back on his heels, studying his limp form. “You weren’t breathing,” he said quietly.  
  
Cas’ head tipped back, staring up at the ceiling. “I used all my energy. The fire is holding.”  
  
Dean glanced toward the window again. He got to his feet gingerly, looking out the window. The invisible wall seemed to still be holding the flames at bay. “How...” he turned back to the angel. “How do you do that?”  
  
Cas sighed. “I use my grace. It’s...complicated.”  
  
Dean edged his way around the tip of the nearest wing, putting himself between the angel and the front door. He marveled at the huge wings strewn from one side of the room almost to the other.  
  
“Dean,” Cas said quietly, his eyes fluttering closed. “I can only hold this small area. I’m sorry I attacked you. It was...I did not mean to do that. Please...do not leave. I am too weak to protect you now if you leave.”  
  
Dean swallowed. Cas was protecting him? He had a vulture-like way of doing so.  
  
He opened the front door, thankful it opened at all. He feared the creature had him sealed inside somehow. He stared at the fire. He couldn’t get through that. He was stuck. He closed the door, turning back.  
  
“Look, I don’t really understand what you are or what you are doing. But if you attack me again, I’m gonna fight back.” He remembered his abandoned knife, now half under one of the chairs across the room.  
  
Cas blinked up at him, nodding once.  
  
He sighed. Well, if he were stuck here, he might as well try to get back to some sort of normalcy.  
  
“Can I help you do something? Like...help you push the fire back? Or help you get...off the floor?”  
  
Cas almost grinned. “I can hold the fire, thank you.” He struggled to a sitting position, looking so weak that it was hard for Dean to just stand there.  
  
“I could, perhaps, use your assistance to get up.”  
  
Dean stepped closer, eyeing the wings nervously. He squatted down slowly and helped Cas to his feet, where he immediately slumped heavily onto Dean. Cas was not going to hurt him. In fact, he was saving him. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said gently. At Cas’ nod, Dean took more of his weight and proceeded to walk him to the strange bed. It was like hauling one half-asleep adult and ten feathery comforters into the small room. He helped him get into the nest of a bed and watched as Cas curled onto his side, his wings cradling around him. A look of pain kept crossing Cas’ face until he went boneless in the bed, finally at rest.  
  
“Can I get you anything?” Dean asked.  
  
“No. Thank you. I will sleep for some time to rejuvenate my grace. Please just stay here. Stay safe.” The words trailed off as his breathing evened out and the creature went to sleep before his eyes. For as scared of him as he had been, he was touched at his frailty now.  
  
Dean gently removed Cas’ boots and put a cover over him. He stood there for a few moments, staring at the wings and the sleeping man attached to them. He was so far out of his element that he couldn’t even seem to be afraid of it any more.  
  
He left the small room, leaving the door ajar. He stared around the main room of the cabin. A row of cabinets and counters took up one corner. A beautiful wood table and chairs sat near it. The majority of the rest of the room was taken up with a huge stone fireplace on one wall with several comfortable looking chairs around it.  
  
The floor space where Cas had been sprawled, now had smears of blood and a few broken feathers. Dean picked up the feathers. They were like nothing he had ever touched before. They were heavier than a normal feather. Sleek and thick. Soft yet strong. He collected all the pieces and put them on the counter in a pile. They certainly did not seem like things to be discarded. The sink had a pump handle that Dean fiddled with for several moments before he got the water flowing without spurting. He found a canister of lemon-scented powder marked with a word he did not recognize. He tasted it, screwing up his face in disgust as he spit the soapy residue into the sink. Determining it to be soap, he went about cleaning up the blood with several crocheted washcloths. He rinsed them and laid them on the porch to dry. He glanced at the unmoved door, deciding he might as well get cleaned up too. He peeled his filthy, singed clothes off and scrubbed them, then himself.  
  
After drinking some water, he sat in one of the chairs, staring at the empty fireplace. He knew his friends and family would be missing him. He prayed none of them would risk their lives looking for him. It made his stomach churn to think how worried they would be.  
  
  
  
****************************  
  
  
  
Dean woke the next morning, still curled into the comfortable chair. He was no sooner awake, than he was on his feet, staring out the window. He could no longer see flames burning. Smoke still billowed from across Collin’s ravine, but if he was not mistaken, the fire had receded quite a bit.  
  
He glanced around the room. Nothing had moved. He went to the bedroom door, pulling it open gently.  
  
Cas remained exactly as Dean had left him. Dean’s heart raced. Maybe Cas had not been okay. He rushed into the room, putting his hand on the man’s face.  
  
Cas opened his eyes, so startlingly blue against the white bedding that Dean gasped at the now-familiar gust of awe they brought him. “Cas? You okay? You were...sleeping.” He felt ridiculous for becoming so distressed by such a normal act for a past night full of abnormal ones. “Sorry.”  
  
Cas blinked and Dean pulled his hand away, standing up straight.  
  
Cas glanced around the room, seeming to orient himself. He sat up, his wings stretching out. He winced, clasping his shoulder.   
  
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Dean stepped back as Cas swung his legs out of the sea of blankets to put his feet on the floor.   
  
“My wings.”  
  
Dean wanted to laugh at the insanity of it. “Your...wings.”  
  
“I have several broken bones and damage to the feathers.”  
  
“Your...feathers,” Dean swallowed hard. “W-what...I think you lost some and...I picked some up in the living room.”  
  
Cas sat forward, grimacing again.   
  
Dean cleared his throat, studying the angel carefully. “Did you...heal me yesterday?”  
  
Cas looked up at him, but Dean glanced to his wings instead. “Yes. I healed you. It was my fault you were hurt in the first place. Most of your hurts, anyway.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows rose.  
  
Cas gave him a guilty frown. “I didn’t intend to take an entire stock of your body. It just sort of happened.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows climbed higher.  
  
“It happened quickly, and I just wanted to make you...better.”  
  
Dean took a step back, feeling exposed on a whole new kind of level. “You looked around inside my body?”  
  
Cas frowned at him, his eyes narrowing and his head tilting slightly. “I...suppose you could put it that way. Yes.” His eyes roved down the front of Dean again, his head tilt turned curious with a grin that had Dean’s heart thumping again. “You are hard on your body, but it is a magnificent one.”  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped. His eyes went impossibly wide.  
  
He did NOT just say that.  
  
Cas stood up, wincing again.  
  
“So...since you heal people, heal yourself,” Dean managed, pretending that statement that threw him through a loop was never actually said.  
  
Cas stepped closer to him, then turned toward him, his wings taking up a good bit of space in the small room. There were only a few inches between them now. “I will. But it will take time. I used most of my grace on the fire.” His eyes dropped to Dean’s chest. “And you. Your lungs were very unhealthy.”  
  
Dean covered his chest with a frown. “Yeah.”  
  
“They’re quite lovely now. For lungs.”  
  
Dean smirked, because even as intimidating as Cas was...he was hot as hell. “You always check out the merchandise so thoroughly before sampling?”  
  
Cas stared at him, initially unsure how to take the comment. Dean watched as Cas processed it and then grinned a little. “Are you...flirting with me?”  
  
Dean closed his eyes. Jesus, this was awkward as fuck. He opened them, knowing he was blushing. “Yeah, Cas.”  
  
Cas pressed his mouth together, looking shy as hell.   
  
A beat of awkwardness passed before Cas started to say something, stopped, and looked back to him again. “Dean. I must apologize for snapping at you yesterday.”  
  
“You mean the...” Dean circled his face with a finger, “the fangs and razor-feather thing? Yeah. That was crazy. In fact, crazy seems to be, ya know, what it’s been since I saw you yesterday.” He swallowed. Why couldn’t he just accept an apology? Why would he aggravate a creature who obviously out-muscled him?  
  
“Yes,” Cas nodded sheepishly. “I was under a tremendous amount of strain at the time. Not that that is an excuse. It’s just...a reason. My apologies. That will never happen again.” Cas bowed his head.  
  
Dean felt taken aback. “It’s...it’s fine. I mean. It, uh, scared the shit out of me,” he laughed nervously, “but, it’s all good. We’re good.”  
  
Cas lifted his head, taking Dean’s breath with another meeting of their eyes.   
  
Dean frowned with a sudden thought. “Can you read my mind?”  
  
Cas gave him a curious look. “No, why?”  
  
“Why?” Dean stammered. He took a step back, Cas matching it, keeping them close. “Because you can...” Dean waved a hand around, “do some crazy shit! Why not read minds? I mean, I’m glad you can’t.”  
  
Cas tipped his head the opposite way, looking at him with such open curiosity. “Why?”  
  
“Dude!” Dean laughed, feeling entirely too flustered. And why the hell were they standing so freaking close? He stepped backwards, rubbing the back of his neck. He hoped his stab at flirting had not set the creature off and now he was gonna pounce on him. “The fire looks like its dying out.” He hoped the change of topic distracted him.  
  
“I know,” Cas grinned, not at all distracted. Cas stepped toward him again, one wing arching almost close enough to touch Dean’s shoulder.  
  
Dean swallowed, taking a steadying breath. “Cas. Personal space.”  
  
His grin sobered slightly, and his head righted. “Personal space,” he repeated.  
  
“Yeah, like...” he waved his fingers back, encouraging Cas to back up.  
  
“Oh,” Cas said quietly, taking a step back. Then another.  
  
“Are you still frightened of me?” Cas asked.  
  
“No!” Dean scoffed. Yes! “I mean, not really.” Yeah, pretty freaking shook here. “Maybe.” Absolutely.  
  
“I mean,” Dean shrugged, acting like he was more than fine with this, “it’s normal to, ya know, not stand quite so close.”  
  
“I see,” Cas nodded.  
  
Dean scrambled for a way out of the awkward moment. “So...” Dean licked his lips, staring at Cas’. Damn, he should NOT be attracted to something so strange. Right? “You eat, right?” He blurted, stepping out of the bedroom, into the main room of the house. “Cuz I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m starving and I did happen to see your pantry is stocked full of...” Dean’s words died in his mouth as Cas came into the main room, grimacing as his wings shifted through the doorway and opened completely in the wider space. “Guess we should take care of your...wings before we get into any eating.”  
  
Cas gave him a shy frown. “I can heal them. I just need more time.”  
  
Dean frowned. “I’ve set broken bones before. And that lump on your one wing is twice the size it was yesterday.” He felt completely at a loss but wanted to do something for him. “I can...try.”  
  
Cas’ brow furrowed as he made his way over to the small table, sitting on one of the chairs. “It wouldn’t be right to have you touch my wings. That is something mates do.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows jumped at the thought. “You got a mate?” He glanced around at the windows as if another winged man or woman would appear instantly.  
  
“No,” Cas said in a small voice. “I was the only angel thrown down.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard as he stepped closer to the creature, sitting in the other chair slowly and carefully. “So...you’re an angel?”  
  
Cas met his eyes, Dean fighting the gasp that their intensity brought. “I am. I told you that.”  
  
Dean stifled a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Gotta say this is all pretty freakin’ crazy to me.”  
  
Cas nodded grimly.  
  
“Soooo, no mates in heaven?”  
  
“No. I was a soldier. I lost much of my battalion in an egregious battle against -” his eyes darted away, “It doesn’t matter. I lost. I was cast down for my...free-thinking. But I never took a mate in all that time.”  
  
“How long have you been here?”  
  
Castiel’s eyes drifted to his pantry door. “Ninety years.”  
  
Dean rocked back in his chair, fighting to accept the reality, as bizarre as it was, sitting right in front of him.  
  
“So...you’re stuck here forever?”  
  
His eyes darkened to a cobalt blue, studying the table in front of him. “As long as I choose to be here.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Why would an angel want to stay here? Isn’t heaven...heavenly? Perfect? Full of mansions and cheeseburgers?”  
  
Cas’ mouth hinted at a grin. “For the righteous. Not for an outcast angel.”  
  
“What did you do?” Dean blurted, unable to think of anything this gentle man, creature, angel, could do to warrant damnation.  
  
Cas’ eyes darted around the room before settling onto his own hands. “I began to question. To...‘plant seeds of doubt’ among my battalion. Naomi said I was...flawed. A spanner in the works. That my ‘chassis was cracked’.”  
  
Dean stared at him in confusion.  
  
“I interfered with humanity. I brought my entire battalion here to walk among humans. To understand them. To...accept them.”  
  
“But...angels protect people,” Dean said in a hushed voice. “Right?”  
  
Cas shifted uneasily. “Angels need humans. Their souls are what power heaven. They have little care for the lives they lead while they’re here, so long as they end up flocking to heaven in their ends.”  
  
Disillusionment slipped into the cracks of Dean’s world. “So...they use us like batteries? Then what? We wear out and...”  
  
“Not quite. Heaven is eternal. People’s souls go on happily in heaven’s endless paradise, simultaneously powering heaven. Over time, the angels have become jealous over human’s eternal bliss while we are left to endlessly protect them from evil.”  
  
Dean had the distinct feeling he was not supposed to know all this. Humans weren’t meant to know what happened behind the curtain.  
  
“I wanted to build a better relationship between angels and humans, which was seen by some as blasphemous. I am...a traitor to my people.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “You aren’t a traitor!” His hand slid over to Cas’, covering it with a firm squeeze that brought a sorrowful look that hurt Dean deep inside. “You were trying to communicate, right? Treat us like more than just cattle in a slaughterhouse.”  
  
Cas nodded, hope sparking in the blue depths of his eyes. “I hoped to understand your kind. Not just guard you, but...befriend.”  
  
“And that was blasphemy?”  
  
“Apparently,” Cas sighed, his shoulders drooping, shifting his wings, which made him wince. “Humanity is not meant to see behind the veil. And angels are just as veiled from humanity. We barely understand what you are, just that you are God’s chosen.”  
  
“And angels just fight? Forever? No wonder they’re getting pissed at us. I can’t imagine looking down the sentence of ‘forever’ to play soldier. I’d be pissed too.”  
  
Castiel studied him with a tilted head and look of interested confusion.  
  
“What the hell are they fighting?”  
  
“Hell. Mostly,” Cas answered easily, still studying him with curiosity.  
  
Dean sighed. It was a bigger problem than he was built to handle. He couldn’t fix heaven. But maybe he could help just one angel. Realizing his hand still gripped Cas’, he grinned shyly, pulling it away. “Um...thank you for...ya know...your service. Protecting us. And trying to understand us.”  
  
Cas smiled, tight strain releasing from around his face. “You are most welcome.”  
  
Dean sat back in his chair, studying Cas. “So, you got anybody in your corner? Any other angels think like you?”  
  
Cas glanced over at the pantry door. “Many from my battalion were...interested in my approach to...better our situation. But none that could stop Michael once he got word of my...interests.”  
  
Dean stared at him. “Michael. As in...the angel from the Bible?”  
  
Cas nodded.  
  
“Wow. So...management got involved and you took the fall.”  
  
“Literally,” Cas nodded. He shifted his wings again, leaning forward. “There was one who tried to help, but...Michael’s word is...very powerful.”  
  
Dean nodded. He wanted to ask who, but it wasn’t like he’d know or understand any more than he already did, and Cas seemed hesitant to talk about it all. Instead, he changed tacts, sharing more about himself to try to help Cas relate to him better. The better they understood each other, the better this was likely to go.  
  
“I don’t have much family, but we’re close. My parents live in Kansas. That’s where I live too. Got a nice apartment I rent since I’m gone a couple months outta every year. But I’m thinkin’ about moving to California. My brother, Sam, lives in Chico, couple hours from here, actually. He’s got a girlfriend and I’m quite sure they’re gonna stay there.” He shrugged. “It’d be good to live close to him. We were pretty close when we were growing up.”  
  
Cas was watching him, relaxing with an almost easy smile.  
  
“Is Bobby family as well?”  
  
“Bobby? Pretty much. Him and Jody. And Charlie. My work family, I guess you could say. Charlie has spent every Christmas with us since we met in school.”  
  
“Are you and Charlie...a couple?” Cas asked, his eyes narrowing as if that was important to know.  
  
Dean grinned. “A couple of idiots!” He laughed at his own joke. “No. She’s gay. And...I’m gay. So...not a couple.”  
  
Cas nodded; an encouraged grin graced his lips as his eyes seemed to study him more closely.  
  
Well...damn...his insane flirtation earlier might not have fallen on deaf ears. Cas looked fairly good with him being gay. As Cas’ eyes drifted down, lingering around Dean’s mouth and neck, he got the feeling Cas had heard and understood his flirtation quite well. Dean’s breath hitched.   
And they were staring. Again.  
  
Oh damn.  
  
“Okay!” Dean clapped his hands together, unable to handle any more talk of heaven and flirting with an honest to God angel. “Eat? Or you gonna let me play doctor to your wings?” He just couldn’t fucking stop his mouth. Or his face, apparently, as he shot the striking angel a flirtatious grin.  
  
Cas blinked. “Perhaps food would give me enough energy to heal myself a bit more.”  
  
Dean pointed at him with a wink and (before he could stop himself) a flirty smirk. “Two birds, one stone!”  
  
Cas shook his head gently. “Eggs would be fine. There is no need to kill any birds.”  
  
Dean caught the laugh that threatened escape. “Oh boy. Yeah. I’ll just check the pantry for eggs.”  
  
He went into the walk-in pantry, looking over the ingredients. He frowned at the collection of eggs in a basket. They were tiny. He brought the basket out to the table, sitting it in front of Cas. “What are these?”  
  
“Robin, woodpecker, crow -” he pointed to each egg.  
  
“You ever heard of chickens?” Dean chuckled. “Their eggs are much bigger.”  
  
Cas grinned down at the collection of little eggs.  
  
“You crack those, and I’ll chop some onion and pepper. Don’t suppose you have cheese?” He handed Cas a bowl to collect the twenty yokes that he could have gotten from five chicken eggs.   
  
The kitchen was a simple prepping area. All the cooking was done in the huge fireplace.  
  


  
“That might be the best coffee I’ve ever had,” Dean sighed, sitting back in the comfortable, over-stuffed chair with his second cup of coffee.  
  
Cas grinned as wide as he did when he’d had a burger the day before. After omelettes, fried potatoes, and sliced apples, the pair relaxed in front of the low fire.  
  
Cas drank the last of his coffee and sat the mug on his empty plate. He carried them to the counter. Dean watched how the black feathers of his wings seemed to reflect deep burgundy, purples, blues, and even deep greens in the morning light. They were breath-taking, even with broken and missing feathers in several places.   
  
Dean sat his dishes on the counter, one of the wings brushing against his forearm like the breath of a breeze. He shied from it as much as Cas did, Cas stepping back a step. “Sorry,” he murmured softly, his eyes dropping down as his lips pressed together gently. His hair, thick and sticking up in a sort of adorably wild mess, gave him an entirely approachable look that counteracted the fierce beast he had seen a glimpse of.  
  
“My feathers won’t hurt you,” Cas said softly. “They only turn sharp when I make them. I promised I would not hurt you again.”  
  
Dean nodded slowly, licking his lips as he lifted his hand slowly, touching the tips of several feathers closest to him. They felt as soft as liquid silk. So soft he almost couldn’t feel them at all.  
  
His eyes jumped to Cas’ face, which was tinging pink across his cheeks. Dean took another deep breath that the angel’s very look stole and let the wing go. “I should...check the fire. I’m just gonna...” Dean stepped back, knowing he too was blushing.  
  
He stepped onto the porch, blinking in the early morning sunlight. The crown fire had left the trees nearest Cas’ front yard bare at the tops but still leafy two-thirds down, their trunks still untouched by fire. He couldn’t see any flames but the forest, including what surrounded the path to Goodyear Creek Road, still emitted smoke. The wildfire was decaying. The roaring, jumping, whirling had all died off during the night. From his vantage point, he could not even see any creeping. It was smoldering. Still dangerous. Still hot. Still able to re-ignite and rage again. It was incredible to think Cas had something to do with the turn in the fire. Yesterday at this time, it was ramping up into a raging monster. Now, it lay in wait, still undetermined whether it would die out or breathe into life.  
  
Something rustled under the porch and Dean stepped off of it, looking under the floorboards. Two yellow eyes stared back at him. He stepped back slowly, going back onto the relative safety of the porch. He backed into the house, shutting the front door firmly, making sure whatever it was could not get in.  
  
He turned, finding Cas kneeling in the center of the main room, facing the fireplace. His head was bent, and shoulders rose and fell slowly with his breathing. His wings gleamed their incandescent reflections of light among the black feathers that draped to either side of Cas. Dean crossed the room behind him quietly, letting him do whatever it was he seemed to be doing. He leaned against the counter, watching as the left wing vibrated suddenly, several snapping sounds coming from it as Cas turned his head, a look of pain crossing what he could see of his face. The wing relaxed, flexing slowly until it lay limp and Cas breathed heavily for a moment. Dean wanted to help. He wanted to comfort him. But he stayed where he was, watching what seemed like magic.  
  
The right wing lifted a few inches from the floor, vibrating, shaking several pieces of feathers loose. They drifted to the floor in broken black bits. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he could do something.  
  
Several popping sounds broke through the hum of his vibrating wing, making Dean grimace. He was fairly sure that was the sound of his bones mending. The lump that looked swollen worse than yesterday, shifted, making several popping noises that he barely heard over a cry of pain from Cas. Dean closed his eyes, his fist pressing against his lips. Another sound of bones shifting and popping was followed by a gasp and choked cry.  
  
Dean’s eyes opened, seeing Cas bent more than before, breathing heavily as he held himself up on his hands. The wing flapped several more times with an uncoordinated shimmy, Cas swaying on his hands.  
  
Dean crossed the room quickly, coming in front of him. “Cas,” he whispered, only half as afraid as he should be. “Cas!”  
  
Cas’ eyes opened as he panted. He swayed and Dean caught him, pulling him into his arms.  
  
Cas choked down a groan of pain, still panting.  
  
“You did good,” Dean whispered, taking on his weight. “I think you fixed a lot of the breaks.”  
  
Cas panted, gripping Dean’s shirt tightly, groaning with what seemed like one last push of...what had he called it? Grace. Two more pops were heard, and Cas went limp in his arms.  
  
“Damn, Cas,” Dean huffed against him. The angel was breathing, but otherwise not responding at all. With his freshly repaired knees and back, Dean lifted him until he could stand, holding the man. He maneuvered him around, putting him in the closest chair, wings wide open and not hindered by anything. He picked up the bits of feathers, stroking them carefully before adding them to the others from yesterday.  
  
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
  
Dean spent the day stressing about Bobby, Jody, and Charlie. He was quite sure they were freaking out about his disappearance. There would be little question as to where he was. He just hoped no one did anything crazy to try to reach him. The forest between Cas’ house and Goodyear Creek Road was still smoldering. There was no way to get through it. His only hope was that Cas would wake and take him back to town.  
  
Not that he really wanted to leave. He’d never been anywhere that just felt so right.  
  
So he nosed around Cas’ immediate yard, his cabinets, his pantry, and even in the drawers in the dresser of his bedroom. Cas was a minimalist, that was for sure. It was worrisome that someone could live in a tiny house for 90 years and collect as little as he had. And it was sad to think he had not only been thrown down for something that seemed like a good idea, but that he had spent so much time alone, feeling guilty or ashamed.  
  
He wanted to find a way to help Cas. To make him see that he deserved to be happy. To have friends. Love, even.  
  
He had tried to wake him after lunch, but there was no disrupting the way the angel slept. So, he waited.  
  
As the day passed, he fiddled with the cell phone. But it was no use. It was a solid, melted block. He walked as close to the woods as he could, looking for his radio, but had no luck with that either. He reeeeally hoped no one had alerted his family. His crew had to know he was here. He had told them he was coming to Cas’ place.  
  
He stood on the porch, watching the glow of the forest down to the next valley. As evening set in, the glow and smoke gave the entire forest an other-worldly look. His chin tipped down at the sound of the door opening behind him. Cas must have woken up. He smiled with some relief.  
  
Cas stepped beside him, looking out over the land, like he must have been doing for years.  
  
Dean watched his silhouette. The red evening sunset gave his skin a warm glow. He turned, meeting Dean’s stare. A long silence passed between them and a lingering look.  
  
“Feel better?” Dean asked softly, the breaking of the silence seeming so loud.  
  
“Much.” A little grin began toying at one corner of Cas’ mouth before he stepped past Dean and out into the yard. He stretched his wings out, flexing them and spreading them again. The feathers rippled with the reflection of sharp, slicing edges before rippling back to soft, sleek feathers. They rippled in the air again and disappeared completely, the man Dean had first met, turning to look at him.  
  
Dean’s mouth was hanging open. “You can just...hide them?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas answered simply.  
  
Looking so much smaller, Dean felt the need to be closer to him, assuring himself that Cas was okay. He stepped down, one hand reaching to hold his upper arm. “Are you okay? That healing looked...painful.”  
  
“Yes. When my grace is stronger it is easier. But I’m fine.”  
  
Dean let his hand drop. “The fire is decaying.”  
  
Cas turned, looking out over the glowing forest. “I’m glad.”  
  
“Don’t suppose you could...fly me to town?”  
  
Cas shook his head, staring out over the mass of smoldering acreage. “I wish I could. All the healing has worn hard on my grace. It would have been easier, but I’m still holding the fire at bay.”  
  
Dean slid his hands into his pockets, guessing this could be what might happen.  
  
Cas looked at him. “Sorry.”  
  
Dean shrugged, pushing away his concerns for his friends and family worrying. There wasn’t shit he could do to fix it right now. “Tomorrow?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas assured him. “By morning, most likely.”  
  
“I don’t mind spending more time with you,” Dean added, biting his guilty smile. But the reality was, he was stuck. He just couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed about that.  
  
Cas grinned. “Yes, I would like that. A lot.”  
  
“I hope you don’t mind me staying another night.”  
  
“That would be wonderful. I rather enjoy your company.”  
  
Dean grinned, his eyes moving back to the wildfire.  
  
“The forest is glowing,” Cas noted.  
  
“Smoldering,” Dean clarified. “Could re-ignite. Could die out.” He looked back at Cas. “What do you think will happen?”  
  
“It will smolder for the night, then in the morning, I’ll call in the rain and wash it away.”  
  
“You’ll...call the rain?”  
  
“Yes. It would be easier to summon rain than to put out the heat of the embers smoldering.”  
  
Dean grinned. “You know it’s so freaking awesome you can do that, right?”  
  
Cas shrugged. “At full power, I could put this fire out and take you all the way home to Kansas.”  
  
Their eyes seemed unable to leave each other. “Don’t wanna go to Kansas,” Dean mumbled, feeling heat flush his chest.   
  
“Well...I could at least have put out the fire.”  
  
Fire. Dean’s chest felt like it was on fire. His cheeks heated and his hands itched to touch Cas anywhere. Memories of Cas swooping in to save him yesterday made him marvel at the man in front of him.  
  
“I find it very intriguing that you fight fires. You are very brave.” His voice had dropped to a deep, smooth caress.  
  
Dean swallowed, shifting his shoulders into a cockier stance. His own voice dropped, answering the caress with one of his own. “Guess I’ll get to watch you fight the fire this time. I’d like to see that.”  
  
“You are the first to see a lot of things.”  
  
Dean stared at the amazing creature in front of him. His heart was pounding loud and strong in his chest. For the first time, he wondered if Cas was talking about the fire...or him. He certainly felt alight inside. His thoughts teetered on the brink of falling, igniting, burning so hot the fire might never be quenched, to turning away from this creature, dousing the feelings for the cold chill of reality, or what he had known as his reality before meeting an angel.  
  
Dean wavered on his feet. He had been putting the fire first in his life for as long as he could remember.  
  
Cas was real. He had healed him. His lungs were clear. Why the hell shouldn’t he have this night?  
  
“So...I’m the first man you let see you?” Dean asked, his breath tight in the swell of his chest.  
  
“Yes,” Cas said with all the weight of a boundary collapsing.  
  
“And...I’m the first to...touch your wings?” Dean said softly, licking his lips as he studied just how soft and plush the angel’s lips looked.  
  
“Yes,” Cas said so softly Dean almost didn’t catch it. But he did. And a thrill of feeling special, honored, elite, edged his bravery a step further.  
  
“I really want to kiss you,” Dean whispered.  
  
“Please. Do it,” Cas answered just as quietly.  
  
He stepped closer to Cas, the pair watching each other as if they might disappear if they blinked. Dean watched the glow in Cas’ eyes grow the closer he got until his eyes closed and Dean’s mouth landed soft and firm against his. 


	5. Smoldering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has come to grips with a LOT in a short time. How about Cas? Now that the romance has kindled...will it ignite? Or will it be snuffed out?

Chapter 5: Smoldering  
  
Smoldering - combustion of the fuel is essentially complete where oxygen is available, and smoldering continues resulting in smoke generation. Heat is the by-product of combustion that is of significant importance to the firefighter. It is heat that causes fire to sustain its combustion and, more important, to extend.  
  
  
  
  
Cas gasped, his body sparking into life. His hands lifted to grip Dean’s shoulders as Dean’s arms wrapped around him. Their heads tilted, their mouths moving, pressing, opening, sliding against each other in a kiss that stole Dean’s breath again. The angel’s body relaxed as Dean felt one hand slide around his back as the other lightly clawed through his hair. Breathless, he gasped, kissing him harder. As Cas’ hands gripped tighter, his kiss angling and pressing more firmly, the spark ignited Dean, he gasped again, fueled by the available space, delving inside his mouth to taste him.  
  
“Dean,” Cas breathed, fanning their own fire into an undeniable flame.  
  
“Cas,” he said back, voice hot with want.  
  
Their kisses slowed until they were exchanging more shallow kisses, chancing looks at each other in this sudden development.  
  
Cas stepped back, licking his lips as his hands slid down Dean’s arms, gripping Dean’s hands. Cas’ chest rose and fell heavily. He was still not as strong as the day they had met. But this encounter had certainly knocked Dean’s socks off. Dean tempered his lit emotions and smiled. With or without his wings, Cas was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen.  
  
“I...I finished dinner,” Cas offered.  
  
Dean blinked, continually thrown off by him. “You...”  
  
“When I woke, you were outside watching the fire, so I made dinner.”  
  
The fire surging through Dean’s veins tempered and eased until he smiled up at him again. He had a lot more to learn about Cas. He was still stunned he had kissed him at all. “Let’s go eat.”  
  
They turned toward the house and Dean froze, gripping Cas’ hand tightly. The yellow eyes from under the porch had come into the light of evening. He’d hoped it was an opossum or a raccoon. But no, a fully grown mountain lion lay half out from under the porch, watching them.  
  
“There you are,” Cas grinned. “This is my cat.”  
  
Dean’s stunned stare went from angel to cat to angel to cat. “THAT’S your cat?”  
  
Cas nodded. “I would never consider an animal mine, per se, but she insists on living here with me. But she usually only comes inside during the winter months once the snow falls.”  
  
Inside! Holy shit. Dean swallowed all the normal things people might say. I meant a house cat. That’s not a cat, it’s a fucking mountain lion. Are you insane? None of them fit Cas, so he settled for a sigh. Of course the cat was a fucking mountain lion. “Am I safe from the...cat? Or is she gonna bite me?”  
  
Cas frowned. “She won’t bite you.”  
  
“Don’t say that like I’m crazy for thinkin’ it,” Dean scoffed, squeezing Cas’ hand and loving how firm and warm it felt in his. “Mountain lions DO have the ability to hurt people. And I’m a people. Person. So...tell her I’m a good person and don’t attack me.”  
  
Cas smiled, but to his surprise, turned to the cat. “This is Dean. He tried to help me. He even offered to help you. He’s our...friend.”  
  
The cat slunk from beneath the porch and circled the pair.  
  
Cas frowned at the cat. “Yes, he is our friend.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard, gripping Cas’ hand a little more firmly.  
  
The cat walked away from them, laying on the porch, flicking its tail idly.  
  
They went inside and had a quiet dinner together.  
  
“My family is probably worried sick,” Dean said, eating the last of his meal.  
  
Cas nodded. “After the rain comes and cools the...smoldering, we can walk to town.”  
  
Dean nodded, knowing there was nothing else they could do.  
  
“Or I could fly us back to town if you do not want to wait for it to cool,” Cas said more quietly.  
  
Dean looked up at him in surprise. “You can? Even...with your wings hurt?”  
  
“I can,” Cas affirmed, taking on a sad smile. “They have healed sufficiently.”  
  
“What’s with that?” Dean pointed to the sadness behind his grin.  
  
“What?” Cas asked, looking down at his chest.  
  
“That look.” Dean sat back warily. “Why does that make you sad?”  
  
Cas looked down at his bowl, not wanting to explain.  
  
“If it will hurt your wings, Cas, I’ll walk. I’m just worried that my family thinks I’m dead.”  
  
“It won’t hurt.” Cas stood from the table, taking their dishes to the sink. He pumped the handle, pouring some lemon soap over the dishes as he pumped again and again.  
  
Dean stood from the table as well, pulling Cas from his work to turn and face him. “What then?”  
  
Cas looked evasive.  
  
Dean’s thoughts grasped for where his mind could be. They had kissed. Did he think he was not interested? God, he was interested! Did he think he wouldn’t come back? He’d come back here with him, if possible! That made him think of Bobby and Jody and seeing them. And...what was he going to say? Dude, check out Cas’ wings! “What am I gonna say?”  
  
“Nothing. That you headed south through the woods and somehow made it back to town,” Cas said tightly.  
  
“What? No! I...”  
  
Cas shook his head no, slowly. “They can’t know about me. If anyone knows, it could ruin everything.”  
  
Dean took another step back. “But I know.”  
  
Cas turned back to his dishes. “You won’t remember.”  
  
A cold chill doused all the heat in Dean’s body. “Wh-whatdya mean?”  
  
Cas scrubbed both plates clean, rinsing them.  
  
Dean glanced at the door.  
  
Cas washed their forks and rinsed them.  
  
“What are you gonna do to me, Cas?”  
  
Cas wiped his hands dry, draping a knitted towel over the edge of the sink. He turned to face Dean, his eyes on the floor near Dean’s feet. “I will make you forget.”  
  
Dean tipped back almost retreating another step, but changed gears, stepping into Cas’ space. “I don’t want to forget.”  
  
Cas’ eyes searched his face sadly. “Dean...”  
  
Dean leaned forward, kissing him. Taking this angel’s mouth in a heatwave that re-ignited what had sparked outside before dinner. As Cas’ body warmed to his, his arms wrapped tightly around him, deepening their kiss. Dean pulled back, his own eyes alight with passion. “I don’t want to forget.” He delved back in, feeling Cas melt in his hands. He pulled at the flannel shirt, Cas pulling back with swollen lips and eager eyes.  
  
“I can’t risk it!”  
  
“I won’t say anything! Just that I got here and waited out the fire!”  
  
Cas’ eyes searched his.  
  
“Cas. Look at me.” Dean pulled his own flannel off, the muscles of his biceps fitting snugly in the short sleeves of his t-shirt. He tossed the flannel aside, standing his ground otherwise, waiting for Cas to meet his eyes. “I can keep your secret. I can. Trust me.”  
  
Cas licked his lips, shrinking back slightly. “I...I’ve never met anyone like you.”  
  
Dean grinned. “Yeah? I’ve never met anyone like you.” He kissed Cas, pulling him toward him again, his lips ghosting down the side of Cas’ neck. “Maybe I want those wings all to myself.”  
  
Cas grinned, chills rising along the skin of his neck. Dean pulled back, staring pointedly right into those powerful eyes. “Can you do that? Can you just...trust me?”  
  
Cas slid to the side, escaping Dean’s easy grip. “I shouldn’t.” He walked across the room, staring out one of the windows with his hands on his hips. “I should take you back and make you forget all of this.”  
  
“I don’t want to forget, Cas,” Dean insisted, stepping toward him. “I can handle it.”  
  
Cas laughed. He turned, his eyes glowing in the dark room. “You can handle this? You don’t know anything about me. If I’m not mistaken,” his voice took on a thunderous rumble and what little light was in the room seemed to seep into him, his wings spreading out wide and intimidating behind him, “you still fear me.”  
  
Dean frowned. He should be afraid. And yes, his heart was pounding, and yes, the hair on the back of his neck stood, eliciting a chill that ran rampant all over his body. But he refused to be afraid.  
  
“I’ve seen scarier things than what happened yesterday. I’ve jumped into the mouth of Hell to save trees. I’ve risked my life for kids’ pet hamsters.” He took four steady steps closer to Cas. “I don’t understand everything about you, angel, but I promise I will try.”  
  
Cas’ chin tipped down, his eyes glowing brighter and his wings arching menacingly.  
  
Dean swallowed, feeling the familiar rush of fear that rose inside him before he took on flames that behaved like monsters. Like they had minds of their own. He used the familiar peaking fear to fortify his own bravery and take the last two steps that separated them. “So, maybe you do scare me a little bit. But I don’t run away from the things that scare me.” His hand raised, caressing the soft skin of Cas’ cheek, the bright glow of his eyes dimming to their regular riotous blue. “Fire is the first thing I can remember being afraid of. It almost killed my mother. I learned everything I could about fire. About how to tame it. About how to prepare for it. About how to put it out.”  
  
“Is that what you plan to do with me? Study me? Tame me? Figure out how to...put me out?”  
  
“No, Cas,” Dean whispered, searching his eyes. “And...I’ll leave you alone if that’s really what you want. But...it’s not what I want.”  
  
Cas’ wings lowered, drooping all the way until feathers brushed to the floor with a soft whoosh. “You want...to get to know me?”  
  
“Yes.” Dean’s fingers lightly gripped his chin before sliding down to his shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you here. Alone. And...I don’t want to go home. Alone.” He sighed, weariness setting in. “I’m tired of chasing fires. I think...” He swallowed, trying not to freak the angel (or himself) out. “I’ve trekked through a lot of forests. I’ve emptied my fair share of neighborhoods, cabins, and campgrounds. Nothing has ever stopped me in my tracks like you, Cas. Please don’t send me away and make me forget the most beautiful thing on this planet I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Cas was staring at him in open-mouthed wonder now. They stood for several minutes just waiting for the other to say something or make a move. He could see the struggle in his eyes. An array of emotions from worry and fear to hopeful and eager finally gave way to a gentle grin. “Alright, Dean.”  
  
Dean squeezed his arm, his own face lighting up in pride. “You won’t regret it.” He leaned in, hesitated, meeting a look of curious eagerness before he leaned all the way in and kissed him.   
  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
  
Dean woke the next morning to a dimly lit predawn day. He shifted, amazed at waking to a body that did not ache and not shaking himself awake with coughs that made his ribs pop and chest burn. He was cocooned in blankets and Cas’ warm body. Cas lay tight against him, his head pillowed on Dean’s shoulder. Black lashes fanned out against the tan skin of his cheeks and his chest rose and fell in a peaceful lull that almost pulled Dean’s eyes closed again sleepily. Cas had invited him into his bed. They had kissed. A lot. And it was obvious that they both craved more.  
  
Dean turned his head away from the bare chest and warm hand that lay splayed on his stomach to look at the black wing that stretched out from beneath him. He could feel the supple, soft feathers against his back. Cas had explained that to touch his wings was intimate. Something only mates did. By the end of their third round of kissing, Cas had asked him, timidly, if he wanted to touch them.  
  
Dean wanted to roll naked in them.  
  
He had touched them. He had stroked and combed his fingers through their unearthly softness, marveling in them. By the time they were both nodding off to sleep, Cas had wrapped them around them.  
  
Dean wanted to live inside them.  
  
He stretched one arm out, sinking his fingers into the heavenly silk depths of the feathers. He stroked them through his fingers, closing his eyes in sheer bliss.  
  
“I’m glad you like them,” came Cas’ deeper than normal, sleep addled voice.  
  
Dean grinned, turning to nuzzle his mouth into Cas’ hair, kissing his head. “I’m glad you shared them with me.”  
  
“I need to call in the rain.”  
  
“Yeah. Big day.” Dean kissed him again and when Cas’ head tipped up to smile up at him, he kissed his mouth. “Is it weird how easy this is?”  
  
Cas grinned wider. “I have hoped for someone to share my bed with. My evenings. My...life with. I have hoped for a very long time. Even before I fell.”  
  
“And in all that time, you never got together with anyone?” Dean marveled.  
  
“Got together? Yes. Even slept with. But I have never shared my wings. I have never...never felt like this.”  
  
Dean rolled over, kissing the wing that stretched out of his bed, draping to the floor. He slid his mouth along several feathers, kissing them again, feeling a faint vibration in the wing, watching how the feathers fluffed. He crawled back to Cas, kissing him one more time before climbing out of the bed.  
  
“Come on, Cas! Let’s do this! I can’t wait to see everyone!”  
  
Cas stood, pulling jeans on, and headed for the porch. Dean watched curiously as Cas knelt right there on the porch, head bowing and wings extending.  
  
The forest looked the same as yesterday, glowing where it smoldered with candling here and there as a tree would burst into flames and burn. But it had not spread. And smoke still clouded the sky as the sun rose.   
  
After only several minutes of Cas doing whatever it was he was doing, the wind, which had been almost nonexistent since yesterday, lifted, and cooled. Dean stared at the sky, watching as the air pressure changed around him, like when a big storm was rolling in.  
  
An hour later, clouds were mounding in thick, gray, turbulent masses in the sky. In all that time, Cas had not moved one single muscle. So, he was slightly startled when Cas took a long, slow, deep breath and opened his eyes.  
  
Dean felt a splat of rain hit his shoulder. He had been standing in the front yard watching the sky. Another splat hit his head with a cold zing that had him grinning upwards. He only heard three more warning rain drops before the clouds let loose in a steady torrent of rain.  
  
“WOOOOHOOOO!” Dean cheered, spinning in the pelting rain. “You did it, Cas!” He ran onto the porch, kissing the angel as he had just gotten to his feet.   
  
“I’m feeling much stronger today,” Cas admitted. “The rain should continue for most of the day. I can call in more if need be.”  
  
Dean grinned up at the gray sky. “This is frigging amazing!”  
  
When Dean turned around, Cas stood there watching him with an amused smile and his wings were gone.  
  
Dean’s grin was unstoppable. “I made you coffee!”  
  
“That would be wonderful. And then we should go.”  
  
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
  
Bobby sat at the hub of the planning area, staring at the monitor, Garth standing beside him, staring at it just as intently. “It don’t make a lick of sense. They were only calling for it to get cloudy in two more days! There wasn’t rain on the forecast for the whole week! Now look at it! It’s friggin’ rainin’ like a double-peckered race horse on race day out there!”  
  
“You kiss your wife with that filthy mouth?”  
  
Bobby’s entire body lurched, whipping around so hard and fast that his ball cap slid askew. His eyes were as big as saucers and he rose slowly like Dean might vanish if the air were disrupted. “Dean?!”  
  
“Dean!” Garth repeated, equally as stunned.  
  
“Hey, Bobby,” Dean grinned, guilt flushing his cheeks as he could read how sure Bobby had been that he had met his maker in the fire.  
  
Bobby stepped forward, crushing him in a hug that jostled the ball cap to the floor. Dean hugged him back, almost as hard.  
  
Bobby backed up, searching Dean’s face with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “I thought the fire got ya, boy! I thought - ”  
  
Garth plied him with an equally fervent, yet much weaker, hug. “So glad ta see ya, Dean!”  
  
“You too,” Dean huffed, patting the man’s back and stepping back.  
  
“It took me a while to make it back here,” Dean rushed in. “I’m so sorry for scaring ya, Bobby. Lost my radio, my cell phone melted. You didn’t call Sam, did ya?”  
  
Bobby pressed his mouth together, looking just as guilty as Dean felt.  
  
“Shit,” Dean swore. “Gimme your phone, would ya?”  
  
“He’s here.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Bobby shrugged. “He got here late last night. He’s getting ready to go out with Charlie.”  
  
Dean turned to Cas, who stepped out of the way as Dean ran out of the cafeteria, down the hall and into the bustling gymnasium. “SAM!”  
  
The gym went quiet as his ridiculously tall brother’s head swiveled above the crowd. “Dean?!”  
  
Dean dodged around a few people as Sam caught sight of him and sprinted for him, scooping him into his second bone-crushing hug of the morning.   
  
“Dean!” Sam out-right cried, never afraid to just air his emotions out. “I thought you were dead! I thought you got caught in the fire!”  
  
“I’m okay,” Dean mumbled, pulling a breath in as he was crushed. “If you don’t break me, I’m gonna be okay.”  
  
Sam let go of him, his face red and tears wetting his cheeks. He hadn’t seen Sam this broken up since he was ten and dented dad’s car playing baseball in the yard. “I want you to quit! I can’t handle it anymore! I don’t want to worry for weeks or months every year if you’re gonna survive this fire season! I need you around, Dean! Jess is pregnant! I couldn’t believe I hadn’t gotten to tell you and all of a sudden you might be dead?”  
  
“Sam,” Dean soothed, shocked at the word vomit spewing from his brother.  
  
“I know you wanna be the hero. I know you can’t stop chasing the fires. But you’re gonna be an uncle, Dean. And, and I’m scared as hell! And I want you around for my kid! For me!”  
  
“I’m right here,” Dean said quietly, his shock fading into guilt. “I’ll quit, Sam.”  
  
“Jess and I seriously want you to move to...” Sam wiped his cheeks off, sniffed, and stared at him. “What did you say?”  
  
“Me?” Dean huffed a laugh. “I said I’d quit. Did you say you’re having a baby?”  
  
“I...yeah!”  
  
It was Dean’s turn to dish out the bone-crushing hug. “Congratulations, Sammy!”  
  
“Holy shit, it’s true!”  
  
Dean turned to see Charlie coming at him like a bullet. She tossed all the gear in her arms and jumped right into his arms. “I knew it! I knew you’d find a way outta there!”  
  
“She kept swearing you were out there,” Sam nodded, wiping his cheeks again.  
  
Dean put Charlie on her feet, side hugging her again. “It was close there for a hot minute. Literally. But I’m good.”  
  
“Dean!”   
  
Dean turned, seeing a frazzled and freshly woken Jody coming toward him with Bobby in tow. She marched. Her jaw was firm, and pajamas be damned, she was intimidating as shit.  
  
She hugged him wordlessly. “I’m okay,” Dean assured her, filling in the silence.  
  
She abruptly stood back, hands on her hips, hair insane. “Where were you?”  
  
“I hiked up to Cas’ place -”  
  
“How! No one could get in to look for you! They moved the truck you took before the fire jumped the road. Choppers kept searching and NONE of those idiots could find his house, if he actually HAS a house!”  
  
Dean exchanged an apologetic look with a wide-eyed Cas.  
  
“He has a house. It’s buried up there in the mountain. It’s no wonder they couldn’t find it.” He wondered if Cas’ confusion sigils worked on helicopters. “I hauled ass up there, barely made it. My gear melted. It was a close call, Jody. Cas and I found shelter and it took us a while to hike back down here.”  
  
Jody’s keen eyes swiveled to Cas. “I will have you know that your actions put my people in danger.”  
  
Cas took a step back.  
  
She met it, looking angrier than Dean had ever seen her. “I had to call his mother and father!” Jody pointed at Dean. “I had to tell those parents that their son was MISSING. We all know in a fire a missing person is a dead person!”  
  
Cas stepped back again.  
  
“Jody!” Dean snapped, stepping in front of Cas. “I went up there on my own!”  
  
“After him! Do you know it’s illegal to defy evacuation orders? I could have you arrested!”  
  
Cas’ wide-eyed look of worry dropped to a guarded look of warning.  
  
“You aren’t arresting anyone,” Dean said sternly.   
  
“Jody,” Bobby said, attempting to calm his wife. “He’s fine! Charlie called it. She said he would come hikin’ outta there.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have gone back up,” Dean relented. “I knew I was cutting it close. But Cas really saved my ass. He...” There was no way to make them understand just what Cas had done for them all. “He saved my life.” He met the angel’s eyes with a tender stare. Cas blushed, then glanced at the others.  
  
“I should have stayed here. I truly apologize for all the worry and risk I caused,” Cas said sedately. “It was most irresponsible.”  
  
Jody stared, mad as a hornet.  
  
Dean licked his lips, not liking how volatile this had gotten. She had no idea that Cas single-handedly put the entire fire out, probably saving many lives, and certainly many acres of woodland.  
  
“I’m gonna be an uncle!” Dean spouted proudly, wrapping an arm around Sam, and throwing out his best charming grin.  
  
Jody deflated. Sam relaxed. Cas quit backing up. And Charlie giggled. He commended himself on knowing how to put out more than one kind of fire.  
  
Jody shook her head, a smile breaking through. “Please call your parents. Now.”  
  
“Will do,” Dean nodded, nudging Sam for his phone. Sam patted down his jacket, whipping his phone out to hand to Dean quickly.  
  
Dean stepped aside from the group, touching Cas’ hand subtly as he gave him an encouraging little grin.  
  
“Your family is very angry,” Cas said quietly, a nervous gaze slipping over to Jody.  
  
“They’ll calm down,” Dean said, dialing his mother.   
  
“Hey, Sam,” his mother’s exhausted and worried voice met his ears. “We’re almost there. Have you heard anything?”  
  
Dean swallowed painfully, reaching for Cas’ hand. “Hey, Mom.” He huffed a laugh at how his voice trembled and he waited for his words to fully register in his mom’s ears.  
  
“Dean?” She answered just as trembling.  
  
“Yeah. I’m okay, Mom.” He swallowed, his head bowing at the sound of his mom crying. “I got cut off from the road and had to wait out the fire to get back to town. But I’m okay, Mom. Mom?”  
  
“Dean?” His dad’s unmistakable voice cut into the conversation with the sound of him hitting the brakes hard.   
  
“Hey, Dad!”  
  
“We were so damn worried!”  
  
Dean listened as his parents got a grip on the fact that he was alive. He chuckled into the phone at his mother’s description of how she was going to hug him. “Okay. See you soon, Mom.”  
  
“You didn’t say anything about the baby, did you?” Sam said the second he had hung up.   
  
“No!” Dean grinned, handing the phone back. “You mean I’m the first person you told?”  
  
Sam relaxed, tucking the phone away. “Yeah. We weren’t planning on telling anyone until we announced our engagement.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows rose.  
  
“Shit,” Sam laughed. “I asked Jess to marry me.”  
  
Dean hugged his brother again. “I’m so happy for you, Sam!”  
  
As they broke apart, Sam still glowing the way he did any time he was around or even talking about Jess, Sam’s eyes lingered on Cas.  
  
“Oh,” Dean stepped back. “Cas, this is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Cas.”  
  
Sam, the tender heart that he was, smiled and shook Cas’ hand. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking good care of my brother.”  
  
Cas nodded nervously.   
  
“Are you seriously gonna quit?” Sam asked him, stepping closer to not alert Jody or Bobby.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, looking at Cas again. “I think this fire was my last. Time to...enjoy life a little bit.”  
  
Cas’ nervous tension relaxed somewhat, Sam looking between the two, his brows rising higher with each look he took. ‘Oh.” Sam sputtered, his grin lighting up. “Oh!”  
  
Dean gave his perceptive brother a bitchface.  
  
Sam grinned down at the floor even harder. “Guess maybe you did more than just rescue the local, huh?”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes as his brother chuckled, heading over to Charlie, Bobby, and Jody.  
  
“Dean,” Cas said softly, “perhaps I should go - ”  
  
“Nu uh,” Dean deadpanned, taking Cas’ hand. “You got me into this mess. You get to stand here with me and wade my way out of it.”  
  
Cas nodded with that shy smile gripping Dean’s hand tighter. “Very well.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother’s Day to all the parents out there ❤️🥰  
> Thank you all so much for the amazing comments, fantastic conversations, and lending your knowledge and expertise! You guys are the best! Kudos to you all!  
> The next chapter (out tomorrow) is short and more of a timestamp than anything.


	6. Regeneration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp: As forests grow and change after a wildfire, so too have the Winchesters.

Chapter 6: Regeneration  
  
Regeneration - In the harrowing aftermath of a major wildfire, it may be difficult to appreciate the restorative power in the fire itself. Rain breathes life back into the remaining landscape, allowing new vegetation to grow in the charred areas. Seeds stored in the forest floor begin to germinate. Some trees begin to sprout branches from basal buds of dead trees. Wildlife returns, from insects, to small animals, to bears ambling their way back home. Nature is resilient.  
  
  
Dean swung the ax, the chunk of wood splitting in two with satisfying efficiency. He and Cas would have more than enough firewood for their winter trips here to the cabin. While they loved the ease of their home down the road from Sam, Jess, and their boys in Chico, the cabin was always their special place. The forest was a bright, young green in its rebirth from the fire six years ago, and Dean felt as content and at home as he ever had in his life.  
  
“Are you done playing lumberjack?” Cas asked from the porch, where he stood leaning against one of the posts, his arms crossed over his chest in relaxed ease.  
  
Dean turned to him with a cheeky grin, his chest glistening with sweat in the early autumn air. “Thought you liked watching me chop wood!”  
  
Cas grinned down at his own boots, his eyes lifting quickly to meet his. “I love watching you do anything. Including eating dinner. It’s ready.”  
  
Dean swung the ax, letting the blade sink into the chopping stump. He pulled the flannel off his waist he had tied there and mopped his face and neck with it as he swaggered to the porch.   
  
“Whadya make me?” He took the glass of water Cas offered him and chugged it until he was panting with a teasing grin.  
  
“Stew,” Cas answered, his eyes ticking down to Dean’s mouth, then his chest.  
  
Dean leaned in to kiss him. “I love your mountain stew.”  
  
Cas huffed a laugh. “You love everything I make.”  
  
“Mmmm,” Dean hummed, his eyes twinkling. “I think you kinda love me.”  
  
“Too true,” Cas murmured, standing up tall, kissing him. “I do love you.”  
  
“I know,” Dean winked, heading inside.  
  
Cas chuckled, understanding his Star Wars quote since Dean had insisted he watch all sorts of movies and shows to ‘understand humanity better.’ Cas at least understood his own human better. He used pop culture references like a second language, which Cas now spoke fluently. For the most part.  
  
Dean turned back to him, unable to let the moment go. He kissed him again. “Love you too.”  
  
  
After a brief (and freezing cold) shower, Dean joined his husband at the table to eat dinner.  
  
“Sam, Jess, and the boys want to go fishing next time they come up here,” Cas said, adding salt to his stew before sliding the shaker over to Dean.  
  
Dean nodded, adding salt before taking his first heaping spoonful. “Mm, s so gud.”  
  
Cas nodded in agreement. “Last time I took the boys fishing, Jess accused me of witchcraft.”  
  
Dean laughed. “I told you not to coax fish onto their hooks!”  
  
“But they get so happy!” Cas chuckled.  
  
Jess had meant nothing by the comment, chalking it up to Cas’ ‘incredible fishing knowledge’, but it had worried his angel for days and was, it seemed, still on his mind. Over the year he and Cas were first together and their following five years of marriage, they had only had one other scare. While keeping their oldest nephew when their youngest one was born, he got up during the night and came into Dean and Cas’ bedroom. Henry, only three at the time, had stood there staring for a full two minutes before Cas realized his wings were out. He put them away as soon as he noticed, but Henry asked his Uncle Cas where his wings were for two solid years before he either gave up or forgot. Dean explained it away as shadows in the night or that Henry was dreaming, but it had certainly given them both a scare.  
  
“Dean...I think it’s time.”  
  
Dean looked up from his stew, spoon frozen midway. He was sure there had just been a shift in the universe.   
  
Cas smiled at him kindly, reaching and taking his hand. “My vessel is the same age as yours now. It’s the right time.”  
  
When Castiel had been brutally flung to this world, he took the vessel of a 40-year-old man named James Novak, who lay in this very cabin waiting to die. For ninety years he held many small, brief lives in his vessel, disappearing before anyone knew he wasn’t aging. He’d always returned to Jimmy’s home, confusing any locals as to how long he had been there.  
  
“Cas, you know I want you to go on forever.” His hand holding the spoon trembled.  
  
“And you know I don’t want that. My punishment was to be among the humans. It is only fitting that I have the honor to end as one. With you. I wouldn’t do this any other way.”  
  
“But -”  
  
Cas squeezed his hand. “I want to grow old with you, Dean. I crave it. Every day I spend with you and our family, I want it more and more. To BE human.” His eyes drifted to the pantry door before returning to Dean’s.  
  
Dean swallowed the hard knot in his throat. They’d had this conversation at least fifty times. But it had never felt like this. Like a presence was gathering. Like the world was pausing to see what happened to the angel. They had agreed, more like Dean had relented, and now he wanted to take it back. He loved knowing Cas was unable to be killed. He could fly. And...his wings.  
  
But they had talked about this. Dean was just having difficulty accepting that the moment was no longer coming. It was here.  
  
“I called Gabriel.”  
  
Dean’s gut clenched. THE Gabriel.  
  
“Is he coming?” Dean barely whispered.  
  
Cas nodded slowly.   
  
Tears streamed down Dean’s face. “I feel like I’m killing you!”  
  
Dinner long forgotten, Cas pulled Dean to him, holding him. His wings encircled them both. Cas kissed him, wiping his tears away. “We talked about this. To grow old with you is the greatest gift you could ever give me.”  
  
Dean stroked his hand through Cas’ feathers. He had kissed every single one. All of them precious and loved. He blew out a breath, knowing every angle of this decision. Every repercussion. And it scared the hell out of him. “What if it doesn’t work?”  
  
“It’ll work,” Cas assured him, kissing his temple.  
  
They finished their meal and went out to the porch. The impending pressure continued to build until Dean’s chest felt like a stack of bricks was sitting on it.  
  
Wind whipped, tossing stray leaves into multiple little mini twisters in the grass. Dean stepped closer to Cas, taking his hand as the twisters joined into one unstable looking torrent that teetered and undulated until the chaos took the shape of a man that seemed created from the spinning cloud.  
  
“Gabriel,” Cas smiled.  
  
“Castiel. Got your message.”  
  
Dean clenched Cas’ hand. Gabriel appeared to be an unassuming man. Light brown hair and brown eyes that twinkled with a power that Dean had expected to steal his breath, but it didn’t. They just emanated power.  
  
“Thank you for answering my call.”  
  
Gabriel glanced around at the cabin, woods, the vast view, and Dean. “So...you found one you reeeeeally like.”  
  
Cas squeezed Dean’s hand back. “I did.”  
  
“They still talk about you. Still calling you the traitor,” Gabriel grinned.  
  
Cas looked down with a sad nod.  
  
“What can I say. Buncha slow learners up there. And I tell them how full of shit they are all the time.” Gabriel smirked. “So, introduce us.” Gabriel approached the porch, eyeing Dean with a grin. “Who is this creature that stole my little brother’s heart?”  
  
“Gabriel, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, meet Gabriel, archangel.”  
  
Dean hesitated but quickly kicked into gear, stepping forward to offer his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
Gabriel inspected his hand, and copied the movement, jutting his own hand out without meeting Dean’s, grinning wide.  
  
Before Dean could move to correct the gesture into a handshake, Gabriel laughed, snatching his hand in a firm grip. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Winchester!” Dean’s mouth dropped in shock. He’d learned long ago that angels were vastly different than the innocent cherubs his mother had taught him watched over him. Even still, Gabriel was breaking down even more stereotypes.  
  
“Dean, would you bring me the Phoenix ashes?” Cas asked, meeting Gabriel’s eyes with the heaviness of the situation.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, unsure about this entire situation. He went in the cabin and straight to the pantry. The familiar scents of peppermint, oregano, cucumbers, and other fresh vegetables filled the air of the cramped little room. He moved aside a large bag of rice, staring at an ornately carved, silver canister. He had first discovered it about a month into their relationship. Cas had explained that the hand-sized container held the final ingredient to a spell that had been placed on him ninety years ago. The angels had intended on casting him down to Earth, completing the spell and killing him. But Gabriel had interceded. There weren’t many (just one to be exact) that could stop Gabriel, and so Castiel was thrown down and able to exist as one step short of being human.   
  
Dean picked up the container, expecting it to be heavy. Something this profound should be massive. But it was light. He stepped out of the pantry, wishing he could just chuck it out the back door, claim it was gone, and Cas would live forever.  
  
But he didn’t.  
  
He joined the angels outside; Gabriel’s wings were out as well as Cas’.   
  
“When you change, your life becomes your own,” Gabriel explained.  
  
“I understand,” Cas said solemnly.  
  
Gabriel smiled fondly at him. “You will always have been my favorite angel, Castiel.”  
  
“And you, mine, brother.”  
  
Dean handed over the container that had no opening. Gabriel took it, twisting the top and a lid appeared and removed easily in the creature’s hands. Gabriel looked up from its contents. “Have a good life, brother. And when your time has come, I’ll be there to bring you home.”  
  
Cas grinned wide. “I would like that very much, Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel looked at Dean. “I’ll be waiting for you too, Dean-O.”  
  
Dean nodded his understanding, managing a “Thanks.”  
  
Gabriel straightened to his full height. “Last chance! Are you absolutely sure about this?”  
  
Cas turned to Dean with a lighter look than he had seen on his husband in some time. He kissed Dean, wrapping his wings around them both one last time. Dean’s hands spread wide to feel all he could. The feathering whispers of softness had not once gone sharp over the years.  
  
“You don’t have to do this!” Dean tried one last time.  
  
“I know. I want to. I need to.” Cas kissed his cheek and stepped away, meeting Gabriel head on. “I am ready.”  
  
Gabriel sighed. “See ya when I see ya.” He winked and blew the powder from the container into Cas’ face. It swirled around his body and wings until it clouded around him and then suddenly sunk into his body.  
  
Silence met their ears and Cas blinked up at Gabriel with a slight frown on his face. Gabriel stepped aside, a wing jutting up just in time to protect Dean from what sounded like Cas exploding. Dean gasped, horrified at the spray of blood and bone that was the love of his life.  
  
Dean looked at Gabriel. Panic choked his words. Had Gabriel tricked them? Had he just used this as some sort of way to reel Cas in when he was happy and had found love, then kill him?  
  
All he could do was gasp and stare at the spray of red matter across his shins.  
  
Gabriel turned and patted his shoulder, eyes still on the splattered mess that Dean could now see. His husband was little more than a red stain on the ground, evidence of him sprayed across everything near them. Red misty droplets of his husband clung to the bottoms of his jeans and the toes of his boots where Gabriel’s wing had not blocked the explosion.   
  
Panic thundered in Dean’s ears. Cas! “Was that supposed to happen? What do we do?”  
  
“Here we go!” Gabriel grinned. He turned back, his wing blocking Dean as it had done before.  
  
Dean pushed at Gabriel’s wing, but it wouldn’t budge. Every molecule of blood and bone reversed, pulling back into Cas. He heard the sound of his husband taking a deep breath and Gabriel pulled his wing away.  
  
Cas stood there. Whole. And human.  
  
He took a tentative step toward him. “Cas?”  
  
Cas blinked. His eyes still marvelously blue. “It’s done.”  
  
Dean ran the two steps separating them and hugged him. “You’re good? You’re okay? It worked?”  
  
Cas hugged him back with a relieved chuckle. “It worked.”  
  
They faced Gabriel, arms around each other’s shoulders.  
  
“See you on the flip side.” Gabriel winked and was gone with a snap of his fingers.  
  
As the peace of their view settled around them with all its familiarity, they grinned at each other. Cas had warned him it might be frightening to watch him finish the spell, but Dean had insisted on being there. Still, all the preparing they had done had not prepared him for seeing his husband explode into a molecular mess. But it was over. And Dean was more than ready to live a life alongside this man.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Dean said softly.  
  
Cas’ face lit up. “Do I get a party?”  
  
Dean chuckled, having already arranged one for him for ‘turning 40’. “You know it! Everyone is waiting for us at the Roadhouse. Balloons, cake, cards, presents, the whole nine yards!”  
  
Cas frowned in confusion. “Nine? I’m quite satisfied with our yards here and at the house in Chico. That would be...so much mowing.”  
  
Dean laughed, kissing him. No matter how fiery their beginning had been, Cas would always have that spark of supernatural in him that separated him from humanity.   
  
And Dean loved every bit of both.  
  
  
The End <3  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This has been a fun ride! I love all the conversations and comments this story has provoked. You guys are the best and I love every one of you!!!
> 
> I’ll be back again with a longer tale. I’m working on a very quirky, comical neighborhood mystery! I hope to see you there for some laughs!  
> After that, I think it’s time for the next installment of Family Business! 
> 
> I’m on twitter at 117Amandas if you ever want to say hi :) I don’t post much but I do keep it positive and sometimes you get to see pictures there that I don’t have on AO3.
> 
> Kudos to all of you! Thanks for hanging out with me and letting me bring you along on another crazy adventure!


End file.
